


Justice

by red (amythyst)



Series: Bitty Hell [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Abandonment, Alternate Universe - Bittybones, Alternate Universe - Justice, Angst, Depression, Despair, Drowning, Eaten alive, Excessive, Forced Dependence, Gaslighting, Gen, Genital Rubbing, Gore, Graphic Description, Gross, Guilt, H O R R O R, Hampster (Bitty) Hell, Health Issues, Honey-Glazed Hookers, In Big Bold Letters So You Can't Miss It, Mental Abuse, Minor Character Death, Misdirected Hate, Other, Physical Abuse, Self-Denial, Slut Shaming, Snuff, Starvation, Verbal Abuse, Wetting, ecto-flesh, human waste, magical waste
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2018-07-21 21:11:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 18
Words: 32,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7404991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amythyst/pseuds/red
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of short stories and one-shots focused on the abuse and neglect of bitties, where YOU'RE the abuser.</p><p>//Only read if you heed the Warnings. If you're expecting this fic to be 'Just', <strong>you're gonna have a bad time.</strong>//</p><p>/If you love to be thrilled and horrified though, welcome to hell!~ ♡/</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Index

**Author's Note:**

> *There is now an Index that lists major chapter warnings by each one - please refer to it if you feel something in particular will make you squeamish. 
> 
> ****  
> SOMETIMES THESE GIANT BLOCKS OF TEXT ARE ACTUALLY IMPORTANT.
> 
> BLACK BOX WARNING: This work of fiction is not for the faint of heart. Abuse and neglect of small, innocent, sentient creatures are the focus here. Except this time, instead of being or rescuing the victim, YOU'RE the abuser, and it is as horrifying and heart-wrenching as it sounds. **If you choose to continue, there is a high chance you will feel sick, you will feel angry, and you will feel hurt.** I do not recommend reading this fic unless you've carefully considered this, and are prepared to face the possible consequences anyway. If you lose an emotional limb, just because you think, "This is a bitty fic, and how bad could it be, really?", or worst of all, you don't bother to read any of the warnings, then, well buddy, that's your own fault, isn't it?
> 
> Secondly, don't copy anything the readers do to any to any living creature or person. Like ... I shouldn't have to even say that?? Enjoying this type of literature does not inherently make you a bad person - at least anymore then the multitude of rape and pedophilia and other horrendous fics on this site that seem to get a pass. The people who genuinely enjoy abusing and violating actual, LIVING beings, feel absolutely **nothing** for their victims. All it means is that you're a good human being who empathizes with others, to the point even fictional characters, that in no way exist, make you feel this way - and that's probably the most beautiful part of all. 
> 
> **If ANY of the above warnings or tags makes you uncomfortable, please leave. Do not pass go. Do not collect on the author's overflowing angst.** It never was, and never will be, my intention to hurt anyone when writing and sharing these short stories. They are meant to thrill only. I write a lot of these for vent purposes, but I also write because I know other people get therapeutic enjoyment out of this, and if you shit on this fic because it's content hurt you, you're shitting on good, amazing and wonderful people, so fucking don't.
> 
> For all the other angst and horror lovers ... please enjoy the hell. :3

* * *

 

 

**Jus·tice**

/ˈjəstəs/

 

_noun_

 

  1.  The quality or fact of truth, reason, and fairness.



 

     2.  The exercise of righteous authority, by administering award or penalty. 

 

     3.  The principle that reward or punishment should be proportionate to the courtesy or offense .

 

 

* * *

 

 If you expect this fic to be 'Just' in any way, you are going to have a bad time.

  

* * *

 

 

 **1.** **Chapter** **Titles -** Bitty Featured

_( Chapter Warnings )_

 

_Note: PVMA = Physical, Verbal, and Mental Abuse_

**_Particularly Disturbed Warnings are in BOLD._ **

**2\. A Favor -**  Classic!Sans & Papyrus

_( PVMA )_

 

 **3\. A Favor II -**  Classic!Sans & Papyrus

_( PVMA )_

 

 **4\. A Favor III -** Classic!Sans & Papyrus

_( Bitty Waste, PVMA )_

 

 **5\. A Favor IV -** Classic!Sans & Papyrus

_( Chronic Health Issue, Bitty Waste, PVMA )_

 

 **6\. A Favor V -** Classic!Sans & Papyrus

_( Manipulative Friend, Depression, and Guilt )_

 

 **7\. Starvation -** Underswap (Blueberry)!Sans

_( Starvation, **Slow and Painful Death** )_

 

 **8\. A Favor VI -** Classic!Sans & Papyrus

_( Bitty Heat, PVMA )_

 

 **9\. The Room -** Multiple, Unnamed

_( Broken Reader, **Senseless Death** , Lots of it ) _

 

 **10\. Roommate -** Undertomb!Papyrus

_( **Bitty [Hampster] Hell** , Bitty Waste, PVMA )_

 

 **11\. Cash Honey -** Swapfell (Purple)!Papyrus

_( **Bitty Eaten Alive, Rape/Non-con** , PVMA)_

 

 **12\. A Favor VII -** Classic!Sans & Papyrus

(  _No Warnings Apply )_

 

 **13\. Bones / Promise -** Classic!Papyrus & Classic!Sans

_( **Human Waste & ** **Bitty Waste (Graphic Description)** , Pseudo Drowning, Forced Dependence, PVMA)_

 

 **14\. A Small PSA, in Fic Form**  - Underfell (Edgy)!Sans

_( No Warnings Apply )_

 

 **15\. Cash Honey II: Mama has Dessert**  - Swapfell (Purple)!Papyrus [Sort of]

_( Death )_

 

 **16\. A Favor IX: Breach** _-_ Classic!Sans & Papyrus

_( No Warnings Apply )_

 

 **17\. Rehabilitation** _-_? Bitty (Probably an Edgy)

_( Torture, Dismemberment, PVMA )_

 

 **18\. Rehabilitation II** _-_ Pure Bite

_( Abandonment, Cruelty, **Death** , PVMA )_

 


	2. A Favor

 

* * *

 

 

You put down the phone with a click. Your best friend just called you up. She said they had young bitties that needed to be adopted. One of the bitties she adopted long ago had been pregnant without her knowing. She asked you if you would take care of two of them.

 

You thought to yourself. Eh. Sure. Why not? You had two cats, but you didn't see the harm. You typically loved small creatures.

 

You drove to the pet store, picked out a bitty cage, litter, food, and other stuff, then headed over to your best friend's.

 

You knocked on her door, and said door opened a minute later. "Hey Bella." You said to her with a smile.

 

You friend beamed at you. "Come on in. The bitties are in the back room." You knew where it was, but followed behind her anyways.

 

Inside the room was a decent sized cage with, you counted, 6 small bitties inside, and one slightly bigger that must of been the parent. 

 

"I actually already claimed that one and that one." She pointed to two of the more active bitties, running around. "You should pick two from the rest."

 

You leaned down. They all sorta looked alike to you. White, and skeletal. The four left were actually sorta clustered together. You wrinkled your nose a bit actually. They were kinda smelly. But you shrugged. You said you would do this for your friend. So, you picked two at random, and your friend beamed even wider. She was very excited, and made you promise to take good care of them.

 

She pried the two you pointed out apart from the others, which elicited some cries from them. You grimaced. _What an annoying sound_. You hoped they grew out of it. She placed them in a small carrier, closed it, and handed it over to you. You smiled at her, and thanked her.

 

The ride home went without incident. No whimpering since they were separated from the cluster, which you thought was good. When you got home, you set the paper carrier down, and got to putting together the decent sized cage. That only took you about 30 minutes, so you decided to check in on the bitties.

 

You decided to keep them in your room to be able to keep a close eye on them. You picked up the cardboard carrier, and carefully placed it on the ground. You made sure all the doors, and windows were locked, and even made sure any other hide-y places in the room were closed off from access.

 

You opened the box lid, and peered down at the two bitties. They were clinging to each other. One of the bitties were smaller than the other, you noticed, now that you took the time to examine them. You gave them a soft smile. "Hey guys."

 

They stared at you. Unblinking. Could they blink? They're skeletons, after all.

 

"I got you a new cage, all your own. Set up with water, and food, and even a soft bed." And a corner for 'needs', but you didn't feel comfortable mentioning that.

 

They were still staring. You frowned a bit, but shrugged. _Oh well._ You reached towards the bitties one at a time, which created quite a few loud squeaks.

 

You picked up the smaller skeleton first, and you could swear you heard them growling. They were certainly squirming in your hand enough. You frowned at them.

 

"Hey now, stop th- **AAAH!** " That little fucker bit you. You growled right back, and threw him into the cage retaliatory with a thump, locking it after. " **Don't** do that." He instantly scrambled off, and hid in one of the small plastic houses. You looked at the indent in your palm that was now bleeding. The bitty was feral. _Fantastic._

 

You grind your teeth together. You peered into the box, and saw the lone bitty pushed up against the corner inside it. They were audibly whimpering. _Even more fantastic_. You go to reach for them, but then you lock eyes to sockets with them, and say low and hard, " **Don't... bite me.** " You reached out to them, and though they did squirm some they didn't bite you.

 

When you turned around to place this bitty in the cage as well, you saw the first bitty standing by the bars, and growling, one eye socket flickering Blue. "put him down!" He squeaked out.

 

You arched a brow and tsk'd. "Yeah sure." You opened the lid to the cage, and put him delicately down, unlike the smaller skeleton. You smiled at him. "Thank you for not biting me." They gave you a weak smile back, and then the smaller skeleton came up to him, as though checking to make sure you hadn't done anything to him. You narrowed your eyes at it. But you decided to leave things be, for now.


	3. A Favor II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bitties disturb Reader's slumber.

 

* * *

 

 

**sniffle. sniffle sniffle.**

 

You grimace in your sleep. _What on earth?_

 

**whiiiine.**

 

You peak your eyes open in the dead of night. _The bitties?_

 

You sit up in bed, and turn on your nightstand light.

 

 _Yep, that's audible whimpering coming from their cage._ You grouch a bit. You're never happy about being woken up in the middle of the night. Despite that, you move out from under the covers, and look into the cage on top of your dresser.

 

They're not in immediate sight. You squint. Your ears hone in that the noises are coming from underneath one of the tiny plastic houses.

 

You take a deep breath, and try not to grind your teeth. "Bitties? What is it?"

 

The sniffles stops for a moment. The taller bitty sticks his head out, tears streaming down his face. "M-Mommy ...?"

 

You give him a hard stare. You're not sure how to react to that. And before you get a chance, the taller bitty squeaks as he's pulled swiftly back into the house. _What on earth?_

 

You hear soft but fervent hiss. "don't trust her! she's not our mommy!"

 

"B-But ... " The sniffling starts again. "I m-miss m-mommy!!"

 

You sigh. You really didn't sign up for this. "What would make you happy bitty?" You hadn't given them names yet.

 

Despite the smaller skeletons resistance, the taller bitty pokes his head out. "C-Could ... you h-hold me?"

 

You rub the back of your neck, and sigh. "Will it make you happy?"

 

Their eyes light up and they quickly nod their head, moving completely out of the plastic house, and standing excitedly by the bars, their face still streaked with orange colored tears. The smaller skeleton peeks his head out, and growls, his eye socket glowing an obnoxiously bright blue.

 

You open the cage with a click, and reach your hand out to pick up the bitty. He squeaks, but doesn't squirm too much. You quickly lock the cage back, not wanting the problem skeleton to go teleporting around. You hold the taller skeleton in your hand, still not sure what to do.

 

He's decided to cling to your index finger, nuzzling against it, though his bones are anything but comfortable. You decide to bear with it. You shake your head, and move back to your bed, tired of standing ... and, well, tired in general. You hope this doesn't have to last long. You're wanting to go back to sleep.

 

You sit on the bed, for god knows how long. You're actually about to doze off sitting up when you feel a tug on your finger. You jolt awake, inadvertently squeezing your hand down on the skeleton, causing them to squeak in distress. Of course, it hurts you too, and you hiss. You uncurl your hand, and can't help but glare at him.

 

"I-i'm s-s-sorry! I-i didn't m-mean to a-alarm you."

 

You're sure he didn't. But you're annoyed none the less. "What is it? Are you ready to go back to your cage?" The tiny skeleton is growling audibly from said container. You shoot him a hard look, though he doesn't back down. You don't have the patience required to deal with this.

 

"A-a-ah ... a-a-actually ... I-i was w-wondering ... can I-I ... s-s-sleep with y-you?" The bitty in your hand is shaking, afraid of retaliation no doubt. You make a face. You stop to consider it. You bed is small-ish. Actually quite small, it's just a single.

 

"Will you actually go to sleep?" You ask, and the tiny skeleton nods their head quickly, managing a small smile. "I-i promise!"

 

You sigh in exasperation, but give in. "All right." You scoot into your bed, throwing your covers back on and put him beside you. Your turn off the lamp on your night stand.

 

You roll over onto your side, where it's most comfortable for you, finally closing your eyes. That's when you feel tiny phalanges scraping up, and across your back. You tense, and your eyes fly open. The scratches continue until he's over your shoulder, and in the dark, you stare hard down at him. **"Don't... do that."**

 

You can tell he's staring at you right back. "I-i'm s-sorry ... m-mommy... I-i j-just wanted to b-be closer." He visibly shows this by cradling himself beside your breasts. You squint at him.

 

" **Don't** move until I wake up, do you understand?"

 

He swiftly nods his head, and hides his face in your cleavage.

 

There's still an audible growl coming from the cage. That little ... You turn your head. " **Shut the fuck up.** " You all but yell out towards him. "I'm not doing anything to your brother." At that the growling stops. "Good." You can't help but growl in their place as you turn your head to rest on the pillow proper. The bitty between your breasts shivers at your rumbling, but doesn't move. _At least one of them is smart._

 

You sigh and close your eyes. Your a little more awake now than you want, but you hope sleep comes quick now that these two things have settled down. ... At least, for their sake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reader is a really terrible bitty owner. Maybe if they were bigger, like, cat sized, she'd be okay with 'em, but as it stands the bitties are a mess right now. And she's exactly the type that has no business raising up what she eventually sees as prey-like things.
> 
> Anyone wanna guess what the title of this fic stands for? I'll accept a request for those who guess correctly. (♥ω♥*) Just kidding, I accept requests in general, very few holds barred. Otherwise I'll start looking up 1000 ways to die. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)


	4. A Favor III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baby Bones aren't good about holding their magical bladders ...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: naked bones, 'wetting'

 

* * *

 

 

*poke*

 

mrrr ....

 

*poke .... poke*

 

 **rrrrrrgggh** ......

 

*poke poke poke*

 

 **AAAGGGH!** You lash out your limbs in a drunken, sleepy stupor, and a loud squeak rings out.

 

**"MOMMY!!!"**

 

 _Fuck._ Your eyes are bleary as you start to open them, just barely morning time .... _wait, what is that noise? and ... smell?_

 

You here loud whimpering. And what you see next absolutely disgusts you. The taller bitty is a few inches away from you ... but also expelling orange waste magic. _Fuuuuck maaaan._

 

**"STOP!! HOLD IT!!"**

 

He wails loudly. **"I caaaaaan't!~"**

 

You snarl just as loudly, quickly grasping him up into your hands, and running to the bathroom to try to salvage this disaster (completely ignoring the tantrum from the cage on your way out).

 

Of course, by the time you get to the sink, his magic has come to a complete stop. And your hand, ugh, it's a bitter disgusting mess. You throw the bitty down into the sink with an audible thump which makes them give a sharp whimper.

 

" **QUIET!** " You ground out at him. The bitty shakes, and shivers, but makes no more noise.

 

"Fuck .... " You examine the damage to your hand. It's **covered** in bitter orange-colored ectoplasm. _Jesus._ You growl at the bitty. "God dammit. What's the big idea?"

 

"I-i-i'm, ... s-s-sorry, m-momm-my..." He's gone back to leaking, though (thankfully) this time it's just orange tears. But he doesn't speak anymore. He's trying to hold back his wails. _Ugh. Things just can't get any worse can they._

 

You sigh harshly. _First things fucking first. Flippin' bitties_ .... Without ceremony you turn on the sink. It's freezing, and he squeaks at the sudden temperature change and wash of liquid, but you don't give a damn at the moment. You snap your teeth at him.

 

"You **will** stay still and you **will** let me wash you, or **so. god. damn. help me** ...." You trail off threatening, which stills his motions immediately. _Thank fuck._ The water has already begun to wash away most of the waste magic; both from your hands and his clothings. You scowl in thought. "Of course ... you can listen now, but heaven fucking help I tell you not to move and what do you god damn do ..." You're pissed. He's shaking, and shivering. **And you're still pissed.** You take a deep breath, and sigh. Most of the bitter orange is gone now.

 

You turn off the sink, and stare at him. **"Stay."** And he has the sense not to move. You take the moment to wipe off your hands on a near by hand towel.... slowly. You can hear bones rattling from the sink, but you don't care. Your bed's a mess (oh yes, you have to look forward to cleaning THAT when you get back) so you have a hard time harboring empathy for this little thing that can't control it's magical bladder. _Flick._

 

You sigh, but eventually your hands are sufficiently dry. You bring the hand towel with you anyways. The tiny, soaked skeleton is still quaking against the porcelain, bright tears in his sockets.

 

"If you stain your clothes with your crying, we're going to have to do this all. over. **again.** So if you know what's good for you, **knock it off.** " You ground out and he throws his skull back, trying to soaking back in the tears into his sockets.

 

You snap your fingers and he turns his head to you. "Lift your arms." He does so, slower than you'd like, but at least he's listening. You pull the top off and away from his bones. You unceremoniously grasp the cold, dripping skeleton, and don't even ask before stripping off his shorts. His body turns a bright orange blush at being exposed. As if you'd care.

 

You plop him down in the hand towel, and begin to roughly dry him off. He's caught somewhere between enjoying it, and it being too rough. He's also wise enough not to complain. _Quick learner._ .... not quick enough to save your sheets, but you figure he's had punishment enough from the cold shower.

 

Once he's dry, you lean over to him, so you're looking at him eye to eye. "What was _**that**_ about Bitty?"

 

His bony brows furrows ... he's still shaking, though it's from nerves rather than cold or wetness. "W-w-wha-a-t ... d-do y-you m-mean?? .."

 

You narrow your eyes, but continue slower. "The bed. Why did you piss. On my bed?"

 

He's shivering a touch more now, and looks down at his tiny, skeletal toes, shuffling back, and forth. His body is even a bigger orange blush right now. "I-i-i ..... I-i-i.... I-i'm s-s-sorry ... I ... I tr-ried to w-wake y-you u-up."

 

You're getting exasperated with his stuttering. You're beginning to piece together what happened. "You needed to go potty and you were trying to wake me up, is that it?"

 

He doesn't even look up, but still nods his skull quickly in a rattle.

 

"Next time I say don't wake me up ... " You trail off .... "Look at me."

 

He flinches.

 

 **"Look at me."** Your voice lowers an octave.

 

He turns his skull up to you, and makes eye contact.

 

You stare at him, hard. "Next time I say don't wake me up ... I mean, **don't wake me up.** You will hold it. I don't care how painful it is. What you did was utterly un- **OH BE THE FUCK QUIET!"** You kick the wall behind you, and the taller skeleton jolts in surprise. The tiny skeleton back in your room had been cursing up a storm since you woke up, and you had just about had it. His tantrum doesn't stop. "For fuck's sake. YOUR BROTHER IS GOD DAMN FINE! I GAVE HIM A FUCKING BATH! HE'S SQUEAKY CLEAN!  **JUST SHUT UP THE FUCK UP, AND YOU CAN SEE HIM IN A MOMENT!"** You can hear a growl ... but his words have stopped at least. "Ugh ..."

 

You turn back to the taller bitty. He looks thoroughly reprimanded. "Are we clear?"

 

He swiftly nods his head. "Y-yes m-mommy .... S-s-sorry m-m-mommy...."

 

"Good." You contemplate what you're going to do for clothes until his other clothes dry. Fuck, you can't waste anymore brain power on this. You unceremonious pick up the taller skeleton, and plop him down between your breasts. You line his clothes up to dry on a nearby towel rack, and head towards the bedroom. His shivering begins to slow due to how warm your breasts are. He better be thankfully, you think with a scowl.

 

You open the door, and, of course, the tiny skeleton is pressed up against the bars, one socket glowing bright blue. You can see little sparks of magic coming off him ... but he's still too young to do much more than that. You scowl deeper. "Knock it off. Your brother's fine. Naked, but fine." You open the cage, and move the taller skeleton from your breasts back down to the cage with his brother. You quickly move to lock it, but you didn't even need to bother. The tiny skeleton is too busy examining his brother for injury, not at all interested in escaping. The taller bitty is just shaking his head, despite the tears in his sockets, he's giving his brother a small smile. Flick, you'd had enough of these. But then you remember.

 

"Hey. Shorty." The tiny skeleton turns to look at you, glaring. You glare right back. "If you need to use the restroom, there's a corner in this cage. Use it if you need it. Capiche?"

 

He growls. "or what?"

 

Ohhhh ... you break out into a sadistic grin. He's wanting to play this that way. You get down to eye level with him, "tiny skeleton ... you really don't want to know what's 'or what?' ... but i guarantee you, your punishment will fit the crime 10 fold. And I **do not** make idle threats. Are we clear?"

 

He growls ... but he also realizes you're significantly bigger than he is, and ... in his short time of knowing you, he knows, if nothing else, you _are_ honest. Even if you're particularly cruel. He just gives a short nod, before turning back to his brother.

 

You snort. Bratty little bastard. Regardless, you have other things to take care of right now. You turn back towards your bed and groan. _Fuck. Now I gotta wash my sheets too._

 

Yeah, this day is turning out to be fan-fucking-tastic already ....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Redacted]
> 
> I might as well mention. You can thank my next door neighbor for this chapter. I've been having to listening to two dogs with severe separation anxiety lose their minds for the past 3 hours or so. So, yeah. Some of the frustration in this chapter might be stemming from that. Better I knock around some imaginary beings rather than real stuff.


	5. A Favor IV: Sansy Has A Bad Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader has finally reached her limit with 'Sansy'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: wetting, mental abuse, bitty endangerment

**_Fuck. Fuck shitty titty fuck god damnit_.** You hiss. The amount of pain you're in is audacious. You were just dreaming of god knows what, and now you're curled into a fetal position on your bed, as a small part of your pelvis **explodes** in pain and misery. _ **Fucking god damnit shit** , never fucking ends, **fucking bull shit.**_ You've had so many 'good days' of not experiencing this pain, you'd forgotten what happens when you get stressed. Your 'condition' gets exacerbated. You curse in your head. This is the absolutely **worse** way to wake up.

 

"M-mama?"

 

Aaaand, you also forgot about them. You crack open your eyes enough to see a tall bitty staring out from the cage, looking a fair bit concerned about you. It would almost be touching, if it didn't feel like a part of you was on **god damn fucking fire**. 

 

"M-mommy, are you o-okay?"

 

You would almost be tempted to laugh, if only you weren't worried about jostling your innards more and setting your pain scale off from distressing and straight into unmanageable. Not that the last descriptor is too far from the fucking truth. 

 

You slowly, oh so very slowly _,_ and carefully sit up. But there's really only one answer to that question.

 

**"No."**

 

The bitty actually becomes a bit more distressed at this, and a deep frown mars his features.

 

"C-can I help, Mama?"

 

At that your heart does flutter, a little. That _is_ actually touching, and you can't help the dry, half smile that appears on your face, despite the other half being a grimace of, **_ow titty fuck this still really god damn hurts, shitty god damn ffffffuck_.** But you still manage out a,

 

"No. No sweetheart, you can't help with this." You start off sweet. "Throw several doctors and they can't help out with this **bullshit,"** and end angry as hell. The pulsating pain, and pressure in your pelvis isn't helping either.

 

You slowly stand up, taking care not to move around too much. One thing might take care of this, but it could also equally be a false alarm. Either way is going to leave you in pain, but at least it's better than holding it in. You turn and take a step towards the door, before remembrance slaps you across the brain. You snap your head back over to the bitty cage, which makes the tall bitty visibly recoil. 

 

"Do you need to use the bathroom?"

 

You remember the morning before all too clearly, and while he hasn't had an accident since ...

 

"N-no, Mama."

 

You squint at that. 

 

"Did you use the corner?"

 

At that terminology he flushes. But instead of answering you, he simply turns his face to the side and nods.

 

But that isn't good enough for you. Not after last night.

 

" **Yes or no.** Use your words."

 

He flinches again, but turns back to face you, despite your piercing stare.

 

"Y-yes, Mama. I used the corner."

 

He flushes even deeper at this proclamation, and small orange tears line his eye holes, but he knows better than to let them drop. That, too, would be a punishment, after all.

 

Instead, you can't help but give him a genuine smile. At least one bitty in this house hold listens. So you can't help but purr.

 

"Good boy."

 

He's pretty much all orange at this point, but instead of looking disconcerted, he actually looks a bit proud to of earned your praise.

 

_... on the other hand._

 

"What about your brother?"

 

A growl meets you in answer, and the tall bitty's smile falters.

 

But you're not surprised. Your lips twitch in mirth. _Little fucker._

 

The small bitty steps out of the plastic house. 

 

"Well?"

 

You would love to stand here all day and wait for his answer _(not)_ , but your urgency is becoming too much, and his attitude is shortly catching up.

 

"not happenin'"

 

Your eye twitches. 

 

"Excuse me?"

 

"you heard me. it's not happenin'."

 

He stands his ground, small though it might be. 

 

"only animals go in the corner. you should of gotten us one of those bitty potties, like our _real_ mom had."

 

 _God damnit._ Yes you remember your friend's cage set up was better. Her's was actually glass, not this metal wiring, and had a small walled off section for a 'bathroom', apparently. But your set up didn't have that. It was on short notice, and it was all you could afford. And that's all your bitties are going to get, unless you run into some sort of financial windfall ( _un-bloody fucking likely_ ). 

 

"yes, well, your ' _real_ ' mom didn't want you, and since you've got no choice but to live with me now, the corner is all we've got. It's all _you_ got it. So you better use it, _or else ..._ "

 

You can't believe you have to threaten him so soon after last night. _Why is he being so difficult?_ And why does this sort of shit always have to coincide with this kind of pain which just makes your tolerance of it **100x** time worse. 

 

You can't deal with this anymore though. You turn around, and while you can hear him scoff, you have more important matters to attend to. _Try_ to attend to.

 

* * *

 

No luck. You grind your teeth as you make your way out of the bathroom, and back towards your room. Relieving yourself did help some, but now you've got a strong pinch going on, on top of the burning, and pulsing. The stupid ass shit you end up doing when you're horny, you're still paying for months later.

 

You open the door to your room and - _oh_ ** _fuck no_. ** Your senses are assaulted by a strong, and quickly becoming familiar, smell. An unmistakable bitterness. Your eyes dart to the cage, but all you see initially is the tall bitty, who looks terribly out of sorts. You know it's not him though. Because when you trail your eyes down from the cage, you spot a dribbling bright florescent **blue** liquid on your dresser, trailing all the way down to the loose pile of clothes on the floor. And unless his magic color changed in the short time it took you, you'd have to guess ...

 

It's at the moment the smaller bitty walks out of the plastic house, once again, and looks surprised.

 

"oh jeez. looks like we got magical mice in the house. that's too bad buddy."

 

Your eye twitches, and hands clench.

 

"say. how about we's make a deal? i'll chase off any pesky rodents, and you can furnish us with a private commode. that sounds fair right?" 

 

The smaller bitty has the audacity to stick his hand out of the cage, as if eliciting a hand shake.

 

This smaller bitty just peed all over your clothes in an attempt to ... what? Piss you off? Well he's certainly accomplished that. And added with your lingering pain, you are just about at and past your limit. 

 

"B-brother ..."

 

The taller bitty looks absolutely frantic. It seems like he didn't agree with this plan.

 

"Sweetheart."

 

You purr at the tall bitty and he looks at you in alarm. The smaller bitty drops his hand a fraction and glares at you.

 

"M-m-mama??"

 

The confusion on his face is damn near adorable.

 

"Did you happen to see any 'magical mice'?"

 

He squeaks and immediately clamps his hand over his mouth. Darting his voidless eyes back between you and his brother. 

 

His brother is glaring even harsher at you now.

 

"what are you-?"

 

You step forward and lean down, meeting the tiny skeleton eye to eye, and give him a soft smile.

 

"You aren't protecting your brother now, are you, Sweety?"

 

The taller bitty is looking even more frantic. Orange tears line his eye holes, and he looks turn between telling you the truth and well ... doing exactly what you just accused him off.

 

"you leave my bro alone!" 

 

The smaller bitty bristles at you, their eye glowing back and forth between yellow and cyan in challenge.

 

So you turn to face them. All light and life drains out of your face, and your smile falls. _This_ ** _fucker_.**

 

You stand back up and walk over to the cage. Before either bitty realizes what's going on, you've already opened the cage and are holding the smaller bitty by the head, like you would a snake. You don't trust him not to bite you, after all. You're already moving to the kitchen by the time both of them processes what's happened.

 

"Brother!!"

 

The taller bitty calls out frantically. 

 

"l-let me go! you bitch!!"

 

The smaller bitty hisses at you.

 

You just grasp at the skeleton firmer, which makes him gasp out. Your cats swirl around your legs, seeking your attention, oblivious to the tiny skeleton's distress, but you ignore them. You stop in front of the sink, hold your hand out in front of you and stare at the small skeleton.

 

"Did you piss on my clothes?"

 

"w-wha?"

 

His eyelights shrink as his stares at you.

 

Your expression only darkens though.

 

"Did you. Piss on. My clothes?"

 

His hackles raise and he starts to struggle again. 

 

"y-yeah, yeah i did! we're not animals, we're sentient creatures! how can you expect us to just go in a corner like that with no privacy?! to piss in nearly the same place we sleep ?!?!"

 

You could of already fucking sworn you explained this to the smaller skeleton, and instead you drop him down in the sink none to softly.

 

He hits the bottom of it with an audible clank of metal against bone, and though he's a little dazed, he's none worse for wear.

 

"What part of 'that's all we got' did you not get through your skull? If you're sentient, you would of been able to process that, you fucker."

 

He finally seems to process at least that you might have a point, and is looking a little bit regretful about his actions.

 

But that's not enough.

 

"Well, since you're apparently not house trained, I guess instead of that nice plush house you got, you can just stay here then."

 

His eyelights shrink again at the statement. He looks around and realizes the walls of the sink are way too high for him to get over. His eyelight sparks again, but despite that, he's still young, and his magic isn't for much more than show.

 

"Or you can apologize, and go back to your house and be with your brother. I'm sure he'll get quite lonely with you."

 

You pull at his heart strings. 

 

He doesn't want to be stuck here.

 

But his pride is burning something fierce.

 

"fuck you lady!"

 

He spits out and then immediately covers his mouth in shock that he just said that.

 

Your face drains of all sympathy and understanding. You look off to the side. And then your eye land on a switch beside the sink. You then look back down at him.

 

"Seriously?"

 

He's still in minor shock, but he's also glaring at you.

 

Yep. That's it. You've pretty much had it.

 

"You want to know the great feature about this sink, bitty?"

 

He drops his hand from his mouth to look at you with some confusion and caution.

 

"w-what ... ?"

 

You finger sways over the switch and you stare at him half-lidded, without a care in the world.

 

"It has a garbage disposal ..."

 

This tiny little shit doesn't even know what you're talking about and just stares at you with more confusion. 

 

"So unless you want to stop being a little shit, you **will** apologize to me, both for the clothes AND for cursing at me. Or, well, buddy ..."

 

You honestly can't keep the grin off your face, as you go to press the switch.

 

**"You're going to have a bad time."**

 

He still just stares at you in confusion, at least until you flip the switch and clanking, grinding, and shrieking of the garbage disposal fills the air, and then his tiny little bitty screams join the chorus. He straight up pisses his pants right there, as the ground vibrates him naturally towards the center, where inside only his death will he meet. You can hear the small cries of the taller bitty, all the way back from your bedroom, clearly he had sensed something going wrong outside the room. But you don't care. 

 

You only let the disposal run for just 5 seconds, but for him, it must of seemed like an eternity.

 

Once it's off, and the vibration's stopped, he's scrambling to the sides, slipping on his own piss, practically hyperventilating.

 

You say, calmly. "So, once again. Are you sorry or not? Or I could keep your here and leave this on." Your finger hovers over the switch again.

 

"i'm sorry!! i'm sorry!!! **oh fuck, i'm sorry!!** get me away from that thing, **fuck!!** " He's pretty much crying big blue blubbering tears now. 

 

You do feel a little badly for having to go this far, but, well, **feral bitties need to be broken**. You lean down near the rim of the sink and stare at him, your finger still hovering above the switch.

 

"Do you promise to use the corner from now on?"

 

He quickly nods his head yes. "yes!! yes i promise!! **just get me out of here!!** " He damn near hisses.

 

You smile at him patiently and purr. "Good boy. But ... bitty, tsk tsk tsk ... look at what you've done. You've gone and wet yourself."

 

His bones are rattling from the adrenaline, and he tilts his head down to examine that, yes, in fact despite having relieved himself on your clothes earlier, he has, in fact, pissed himself. He then turns a deep shade of blue in embarrassment.

 

"Gosh, I was really hoping to keep your clothes clean, at the very least. Oh well." You go to reach over at something above the sink and he screams again.

 

 **" noooo!!!!** i'm sorry!!!! i'm sorry!!!! **i'm so sorry!!! please don't turn that thing back on!!!** i promise to be good!! **oh fuck , please don't turn it back on!!!!"**

 

 _My, he's so, **compliant** , now_. You should of done this to begin with. Despite his screams, you still reach over, but instead of flicking the switch for the disposal, you end up turning on the water spigot. 

 

He still hasn't processed exactly what you did, and he hasn't seen the large flow of water before either, so naturally he tries to get away from that too.

 

And you can only chuckle. "Now now, none of that. Can't have you stinking up the place." Though you try not to think of the clothes you're going to have to clean up later. Thankfully, magic is water soluble. Who'd of thunk?

 

Instead you reach down, and despite his panic, you douse him under the waterfall of water. He's freaking out and gasping, but you know for a fact they can't drown ... even if  **they** don't seem to realize that. By the time he's figured out you're not shoving him down the drain and straight into the jaws of death, you've scrubbed him and his clothes quite thoroughly, and you're turning the water spigot off.

 

He breath (pseudo-breath?) is still going a mile a minute, but he's more or less limp. All the more pliable to shed him off his tiny clothes. You'll have to hang them like the taller bitty. You go to put him back down in the sink while you get a towel, but he all but screams and latches to your hand. _Oh lord, now this is just adorable._ As much as a part of you enjoys seeing him get him comeuppance, the punishment is over. So to be nice, you cover the drain with a stopper - even if you turned the disposal back on, and let it run, he won't get ripped limb by limb into a chalky magical paste. ... You've probably thought about that outcome too much. He's shivering, and looking away from the drain hole, but the cover seems to of helped.

 

You dry your hands on the kitchen towel, before coming over and drying him next. You aren't even particularly cruel about it. Seeing him freaked out about the disposal has some ... weird happy feeling going through you. You feel 'sated'. So you hum gently as you clean him off. After your done, you even manage to hold him without him freaking out and biting you. Instead he's latched onto your finger rather tightly. 

 

You bring him back to the cage and open it to gently set him back down. You smile at him and say, "Good boy." But once he's back in his 'safe zone', he's scuttling into the plastic house in no time flat. 

 

"Brother?!"

 

The taller bitty doesn't even spare you a glance as he goes in after him.

 

You can only shrug. Not wanting to invade their space anymore, you quickly change out the 'corner', so they'll actually feel safe enough to use it ... but then you examine the damage to your dresser and the clothes below it. You grimace, and sigh. _Pets. Sentient skeleton pets_. You don't know what the future will bring, but you do hope they'll **both** learn to behave ... in time. **...Or else.**

 

And just like that, your good feelings are ruined, and your pelvic pain comes back tenfold. Because that's what happens when you're kinky as shit and not at all cautious. You stick shit up your urethra because you saw some hot porn of it, and now you're in half-crippling pain and cleaning up a bitty mess. This is your life now. RIP you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: Added more exposition into exactly what the Reader's 'condition' is. Thought about making it period pains, but isn't this more interesting? If you're going to f-ck your urethra kids, don't let it sit in your bladder during orgasm. You'll cause nerve damage and other fun stuff. ~Helpful tips from Red, yo~
> 
> Also I just want to say, you guys, uh, really like your bitty torture, huh? Had a lot of people make personal pleas to me to upload a new chapter to this (many, many months after posting this fic initially), so some of you just got your wish. :3 Thanks for sticking around for this disaster of torture fic. XD I hope the wait was worth it. ^_^


	6. A Favor V: And Everything Was Going So Nicely, Until ...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey, do you think Reader's a POS? Yeah, well, so does someone(s) else. :D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: wetting, guilt, emotional and physical distress, not so cleverly hidden nods and references

 

* * *

 

 

The pain from yesterday has abated, lowering into a dull throb. It still bothers the hell out of you, of course, but the day goes on and you need to get out of bed. Your cats are crying for food, and although your bitties are silent, you know you need to take care of them too. It's just slightly unusual that they're listening to your instructions.

 

You open your eyes and stare at the bitty cage first thing, since it's directly across from you. Though it's quiet, you catch some movement in the corner of the cage, and immediately your eyes are blown wide. Oh ... The tall, sweet bitty is hover-sitting in the 'special' corner. Yes, _that_ corner. Your face burns hot with a blush, but, for some reason ... your attention is absolutely riveted, and you can't look away.

 

You still hadn't given them their clothes back, (though they were surely dry by now), so it was easy to see the bloated glow in the skeleton's pelvis. You honestly find it fascinating, and you're more than just a little bit ... curious how it works. _Why do tiny skeletons need to eliminate?_ _They're more or less creations, after all ... but, on the other hand ..._

 

Suddenly there's a a slight orange dribble from a small opening in bottom of the plump sphere that must be his bladder. Magic excretion in bitties seems comes out as a vicious liquid; it's a little thicker than humans, though no less fluid. _Well it's not **really** pee, after all_. Even though he's small, the noise from the liquid escaping him and hitting the litter makes an audible hiss and splatter, and causes him blush. As the evacuation continues, a shudder wrecks through his bones, making him rattle just a bit, and just faintly whimper. It only takes a second for him to realize what he's done, and he quickly slaps his hands over his mouth. He sharply jerks his head to see if you heard him.

 

And oh. **Oh boy** , did you hear him. He flushes an even deeper orange to see you, still under the covers, but staring at him. **Intensely.** _**Consumingly**_. So on top of the combined humiliation of having to use this corner, _like an animal_ , and still being naked, _like an animal,_ you  **heard** him and you're  **watching** him be this ... _gross_. Though he refuses to make a sound, orange tears line his sockets, and the expulsion suddenly turns violent as he tries to finish as a fast a possible and escape from your view. He flinches almost imperceptibly, and though you feel second hand embarrassment, you also wonder idly if it hurts him when they try to go quick like that. God knows it does you, even _before_ your health condition came into play. But it's just a few more,  _very drawn out,_ seconds ... and it's all over. Of course, in his hurry to get it over with, his pelvis is absolutely spotted orange from stray droplets. _... Looks a though someone needs to get cleaned up._ And then it's impossible to ignore the dark thrill that burns at your upper back as this thought ... ... but it's also _too_ _damn early_ to be questioning these sort of unnamed emotions.

 

Despite finishing the 'dirty deed', he continues to stare at you in abject horror, hands clasped over his mouth. You don't believe it's even about him being caught in the act anymore ... he's probably terrified your going to punish him for making even a peep, when you explicitly said not to.

 

But you can't stop your eyes from going half-lidded, and the little smile that graces your lips. _Honestly._ While it was somewhat noisy, there's no way you would of heard something that light in your sleep. But you suppose he doesn't know that. So, you remove yourself from the covers, place your feet delicately on the carpet, and slowly walk across the room to the cage, and before meaningfully leaning down to lock eyes with his.

 

_Gosh, it must be taking every effort not for him to cry out. He's almost behaving a bit more like a Cherry, than ... well, what'd I find out they were called yesterday? Oh right. A Papyrus bitty ... **A Papy.**_

 

"I-" His voice is so soft yet strained. "I-I'm **s-sorry** , Mommy. Formakingasound." And he slaps his hands right back over his mouth. You know it wouldn't take much to send him over the edge. But. You're not mad. No. You _can't_ be mad. It's weird and you can't identify the ... emotion? But watching him behave and listen to you, it sends a small flutter through your soul. So your smile softens even more, and you all but purr out.

 

**"Good boy."**

 

And now the Papyrus bitty is blushing for a completely different reason. Instead of hurting him, you're **praising** him, and his bones gently rattle in response.

 

"bro?"

 

The moment is broke, and your eyes dart to the opening of the plastic house. Your smile drops immediately as you see the Sans-type bitty. (Yes, you found out what he was called too, thanks to a final bout of internet sleuthing). He had half crawled out of the house looking at his bro with some consternation, when he locked eyes with you. _And man. **Oh man.** Did his skeletal face just go through a full cycle of emotions they should not be capable of?_ That sends a completely different thrill through you - a sharpness instead of a burn.

 

 _Heh. Little asshole must still be on high-edge from yesterday._ His expression cycles through, fear, wariness, mistrust, anger, disgust, and then finally his face is just ... blank. He looks back and forth between you and 'Papyrus', but he won't say anything. **He knows better than to say anything.** You lick your lips in satisfaction.

 

Instead of teasing him though, you look back to the Papy, who was watching his brother with some fear for having made a sound. Instead the smile deepens on your face. 'Papy' was **good**. He had accidents, but generally speaking, he was a sweet jellybean, and _he **listened** to you_. As such, you wanted to _spoil_ him. ... well, within reason.

 

" _It's okay, Papy._ " Your purr. And as you'd never given him a name before, his eye sockets are blown in wonder, as if the concept wasn't even in the realm of possibility.

 

"M-mama?"

 

"You were so quiet I wouldn't of even noticed if I wasn't already awake. You don't need to apologize for sounds you can't control." Your smile deepens. "And you were _so good_ by using the corner like I told you too, I couldn't possibly be mad at you. **You are a very good boy**."

 

The skeleton is fully colored orange by now, and you find it almost a little humorous.

 

"T-thank you, Mommy! **"** Tears are still lining his eye sockets, but they're happy tears, and you can't find it in you to be mad. Besides ... He still has to get cleaned up anyways. You bite your lip in preemptive excitement ... but it's cut short by a familiar, musty, days old smell. _Ugh._ The cage needed to be cleaned. **Badly** _._ It's gross. You feel gross, just by being near it. Both him and his brother probably need a good scrubbing, too. Not the least because Papy 'splattered' all over himself. And you really can't help the hot blush that surfaces at the thought.

 

Before you have a chance to do anything about ... _anything_ , you hear a knock at your front door. All three of you jolt up at the unexpected sound, but even though it takes you a second or two to process it, unlike them, you might have an idea of who it is. You dart your eyes to the bitties briefly and say firmly, "I'll be back.  **Stay quiet."** Then you're exiting your bedroom, still in your pajamas.

 

* * *

 

 

You cross your cats, who are still seeking your attention for food by winding around your legs, and while you're tempted to ignore the knocking and take care of them, said knocking only gets more fervent, and you give a defeated sigh.

 

As you open the door, the cats dart away, always spooked by invaders. You almost wish you could join them, but instead, who should arrive but,

 

"Bella?"

 

"Hi hi!" A girl just a bit taller than you is standing at your door way. "Thought I'd stop by and say Hello! and say hi to my babies!!"

 

You immediately stiffen and fight off a scowl. _First off, they're no longer your babies, you off-loaded them on me. And then **everything** that said babies have put me through the past three days, **on top** of this flared up health condition, and ... **fuck**._ You can't afford to say any of that right now though. Instead, you give her what you hope looks like a sincere half-smile.

 

"Is that so? Well ... they're currently sleeping right now, but you can come in for a drink since you stopped by, and-"

 

"Non-sense. My bitties are always early risers!" And she's already pushing her way past you and straight into your nerves. **_God damnit._** You loved Bella. You'd known her since you were both children, but she had no idea what the hell boundaries were, and telling her just sent her into tears and ...

 

"Where are the adorable little tykes, anyhow?" She's beaming as she wanders through your living room, and it's all you can do not to just throw her out.

 

"As I said, they're currently sleeping, and ..."

 

" **OH!!!** I bet your in your bedroom aren't they? _**Let me see!!**_ " And without another word from you, she's about to enter the your bedroom, without permission and ... _Christ this isn't good_.

 

"Bella- hold up, like I said they're sleeping and-"

 

"Mommy??"

 

Too late, the bitties seemed to of recognized Bella's voice, **and** disobeyed you. And while it grates on you that they'd still call her that, there's about to be more pressing concerns.

 

" **Bitties!!** How are you- **_Oh my god_**." And her enthusiasm drops straight into horror.

 

 _Fuck._ You were afraid of this.

 

"____! **What on earth-!!** "

 

You frown and follow behind where she's standing in the bedroom, staring at the bitties in horror.

 

Both bitties are staring at her with wide, yet hopeful eyes, which just crushes your soul. _Fuck,_ you know Sans is a little shit that wants out, but you weren't expecting Papy to betray your affections quite so quickly.

 

"God, ____. Why are they so dirty? and **naked**? Are they going in the corner?? Have you cleaned this cage **once** since getting them?!?! _**Jesus.**_ "

 

The guilt instantly burns through you, and you have to grind your teeth together in response, less you lash out.

 

"Gods **sake** , Bella." It slips out anyways. You can't help it. "It's still early in the morning, and I  _was_ about to give them a bath and clean the cage, but I wasn't expecting _you_ , or anyone else for that matter, to stop by." You don't acknowledge the other questions yet.

 

"Oh. Well that explains why they're naked, if you were going to bath them ... " _Sure._ The guilt gnaws at you. _That's the reason. Not the fact they're almost both been that way for almost 2 days._ "But how could you let the cage get this **dirty?** I know they're manufactured beings, but they're still some weird sort of ... biological? They get gross, ____ and ... **ugh** ... Really, ____? You couldn't find them a **normal** bathroom??"

 

Your tapping your foot in nearly unabated frustration now. Combined with a persistent sense of guilt and violation, you're just ... "They're just **bitties** , Bella. Gods sake. Even my cats use a god damn litter box. And you know my finances are _thin_." You stress. _Sorry I'm not as loaded as you and your **god damned** inheritance woman._ "It was cutting it just to get this cage for them. And like I said, _I've been busy_. I was going to clean the cage. **Right. Before. You showed up**." You've resorted to expressing yourself with your hands now too, but exasperation with this is about at the end.

 

She gives you a dead look. "Busy ...? _Really_ ... _?_ " And your hackles are raised absolutely sky high at her sense of disbelief. _She did not just_ ... She normally had the good grace not to talk down about your current 'lifestyle', but apparently seeing her **'babies'** like this has removed all her filters. "What exactly _were_ you doing then?"

 

Your teeth clench and you hiss out, " **Work.** " You don't even care that it was a lie. The bitties didn't require all your attention, but just getting out the bed in the morning and doing **anything** was an event for you, and unlike some people with both money  **AND** health insurance, you had to self medicate. With sleep. And cheap ass pain pills. _And **fuck** -_

 

"Work? Like ... _paid_ work?" You fucking knew she was going to do this.

 

" ** _Yes._** " It's a lie, but you don't fucking care.

 

She looks at you dubiously, and if she weren't your 'best friend', and you hadn't had such an emotional investment from being friends with her since elementary school, you would of kicked her out already. _Funny still_ ...

 

She sighs, ignoring you for now and looking at the bitties. "My poor _babies_ ..." She leans down to them and stares at them.

 

Your heart is squeezed. You can see them staring right back. Blissfully, wide eyed. Like she's angel sent to safe them from the disappointment of a person that's you. And right as right as they're about to say something, you **growl** , inadvertently. Low enough that Bella can't hear, but _they_  can, and their attention snaps to you. They must of caught the fury and hurt in your eyes, because their mouths remain firmly shut. If they were going to say **_anything_**  about the past few days, you were very sure to give them a world of hurt. Even with potential for escape with their previous Mommy, do they really want to risk being left here instead? Enduring an even worse punishment than either have had or seen??

 

"mommy, take me home!!"

 

Your heart breaks. _One of the little shits did_ , and it's all you can fucking do not to explode, **curse** , and cry out loud, Bella be damned.

 

She frowns and then sighs, and then stares up at you, with that same sense of ... _disappointment._ _It's clearly let's make ____ feels like **crap** day._ "____, you have nothing going on right now. I know you say you work, and you've only had them three days but ... god, if you can't take care of yourself then ..."

 

It's done. Your whole body just slumps. There is literally nothing you can do to convince her that you're doing good. With _**anything**_. Despair sets in rather quickly and it **hurts.**

 

She turns away without another thought, and looks back them. She whispers in a soft, consoling voice. "I'm sorry bitties, but ... I can't take you back. It's enough for me just to manage your Mom, and two of your siblings." **_Fucking bullshit._** Anger still burns just a touch below the morose. "But ... still ... I believe in ____, so believe in her just a bit too, okay?" But her voice wavers unconvincingly as she says this. Even she can't make a lie _that_ big believable.

 

Your heart is breaking, and it only turns worse see the large hopeful glow that had been in the center of their chests dims significantly. _That's right. I'm an awful person. They don't **want** to be with me._ Yet any sympathy you might of had for them is fucking quashed. Your hurt and angry, and there's not a god damn thing you can do.

 

She sighs again before she stands up and walks over to you. She gives you a firm, but patient look. "____, you're my best friend, but ... you can do a little better, yeah? Even if you might not think so." Even as she says this, she can only give you a half-hearted, fake smile.

 

But the damage is already done. You're boiling over from this emotional cacophony, one of the worse than your so-called 'best friend' had triggered yet, and it's only from years of practice you're able to keep those feelings locked away and from leaking out, straight out of your mouth. It's all you can do to keep from verbally _**eviscerating her**_. For everyone's sake ... **You. Keep. Your. Mouth. ~~Shut.~~**

 

She gives the bitties one lone last glance before looking back to you. She drops her voice soft enough that the bitties can't hear. "Look ... I honestly don't have anymore friends who can take on bitties. ... And you know how adoptions centers feels about naturally bred bitties, right? ... They'd probably get euthanized. Do you honestly want that kind of burden on your shoulders?" She claps her hand on your shoulder, almost for effect, which just makes you stiffen at the  **very much unwanted** contact. "You promised to take care of them, ____, _so_ ..." She trails off meaningfully, before she gives an almost normal smile, and her voice resumes it's almost normal volume. "I'm going home." Her hand quickly slips from you and she slides towards the exit. As angry and hurt as you are, you're just happy she's done making you feel like **absolute, _utter_ , _unredeemable_ ~~_garbage_~~ ,** you hold the door open for her with unrestrained eagerness. You want this day to be **over**.

 

Before she leaves though, she turns to you and gives a you beaming, fake smile. "We'll be in touch, 'kay?" A stranger could mistake this as kind concern, but you knew it for what it was. A warning. Still you give her a half-smile back. _**Fucking social pleasantries**  should be dead where they fucking stand._ As she practically bounces off, you softly close the door behind her. You take a deep breath, lean your head against the door, and clench your teeth. Even if you didn't have this constant pain drilling in your lower half, your day is now absolutely, one hundred percent **ruined**. Your good mood from this morning, _vanished_. You feel a familiar, unwanted guilt at disappointing all those who 'cared' about you, _**had** ever cared_ \- but still, every minor/major violation of you and your personal space that Bella had incurred this morning is built up into one big ball, and it's all you can do not to-

 

"Meow." You hiss inadvertently and whip your head down to stare at your legs. Your cat stares at you in shock, before leaping away, sensing your mood, and then you feel even **_more_** guilty. _Fuck_. You ... And it's all you can do not to burst into tears. No matter what. You can't take it out of them. You refuse to take it out on them. They're the only two of the only lights of your life, they did literally **nothing** wrong and they're starving to boot. The day is already done, all your energy is just ... _gone_ , but you can't, **_you won't_** , treat these guys poorly.

 

"I'm sorry kittens ..." You whisper apologetically. Despite your best efforts, a stray tear escapes from you, though your quickly wipe it away. You'll need to pick a different time to feel sorry for yourself. You move towards the kitchen to get stared on breakfast, for you, the cats ... for the bitties. And even though your appetite for food is shot ... the appetite for something completely different is stoked. And the two _lucky_ recipients will only have themselves to blame.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you feel like shit? Did you want to go punch a wall? Did you want to cry? If so, congratulations!! You've been completely immersed into the role of shit human being. ^_^ 
> 
> Said shit human being also has some pretty unfucking fortunate circumstances, and is clearly trying, but ... yeah. Evil certainly does come in degrees doesn't it?
> 
> I don't know why I abandoned this fic for well over a year, and now I've come back to it, and writing it is just ... fun? I don't expect that to last. Reader's personality kind of took a change last chapter, but I thought throwing some outside grief at her might return her to her broody self. To be honest reader herself isn't 'evil', but her actions? Towards the bitty. Yes. She is behaving in a way that's gonna take a lot to makeup for. Papy might be okay-ish? But ... Still. I promise not to off Sans for quite some time (cross your fingers folks). 
> 
> PS. I apologize to anyone named Bella. I guarantee if you're into reading this sort of thing, the name in no way references you. The possibility is like ... on the level of strings in atoms, kind of small.


	7. Starvation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ****  
> _Starvation_  
>   
> 
> cw: extreme hunger, mania, heavy violence, despair, death, magical waste

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A separate short story from the main storyline, but set in the same universe. _An Interlude_ , if you will. It's also the darkest thing I've written so far. **Enjoy~**

 

* * *

 

 

**Hunger.**

 

He grips his arm. He's so, so very hungry. He thought staying in this state for so long he'd adjust to it. But he was **wrong**. He gnaws on his bones, in a meager attempt to stave it off, but it's pointless. He's so incredibly tired, but sleep is nigh but impossible.

 

_But then ..._

 

**Food.**

 

His eyelights dilate, and his bones rattle with a barely controlled impulse, and he's standing up. He knew better than to wander out from the walls. His siblings, though starved as well, knew that contact with humans meant only **death**. They had warned him, to wander out was an almost assured signing his own death warrant. But he didn't care. _He couldn't afford to care_. His body's store of magic is nearly at it's limit. He needs food if he wants to live, and he need its  ** _now_**.

 

He stares tentatively outside the safe space through a whole, and finds the whole area in front of him covered in a blanket of darkness. There's no place to hide here. Any manner of death could be waiting for him. _**But it doesn't matter.**_

 

With his magic in this extreme state of drainage, teleporting is not longer an option, so he dashes across the tile floor with an incredibly audible 'click-clack-click!' His brain is screaming at him  **'DANGER'** , but the hunger is stronger. _Closer. Closer. Ever Closer_. Just a few more jumps, and he'll have it. _How did a piece of magical infused food fall to the floor like that?_ **It didn't matter.**  He hadn't eaten anything for weeks and he was on the verge of _dusting._

 

 _So close now._  He can't see it but he can smell it. His mouth, usually so dry, actually produces a bit of saliva in anticipation. He doesn't care if it's just crumbs, or even days old garbage, his senses are screaming  **'FOOD!' 'SUSTENANCE!'** 'LIFE!'.

 

And then he sees it. A tiny slice of freedom, against the black backdrop of the barren kitchen. A perfect piece of burg just sitting there on the floor. A gift meant just for him. His eye sockets burn, and if he could cry in happiness, he would. His primal objective to **live**  goes into overdrive. His magic is already dangerously low, but his eye flickers as he gives one last teleport to victory.

 

 **Food.** _Sweet, beautiful, amazing-_

 

***TWANG***

 

**"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!"**

 

 ** ~~Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain.~~** That's all he can think of. ~~**Pain. Pain. Pain.**~~ It hurts him so incredibly bad. ~~**Pain. Pain. Pain.**~~ But by the time he doesn't realize what's happening. ~~**Pain. Pain.**~~  He's already caught.

 

He snaps his head down to find the source of pain finds his leg nearly completely crushed by a thick bar of metal, leaving his bones cracked and quickly dusting into the open air. He try to pull it himself away from it, _but it's impossible_. The pressure is too much. Chips of bones are flying like shrapnel, and dusting before they hit the floor. _**He's going to lose his leg.**_

 

 _Stars, it **hurts.**_  His sockets burn with un-sheddable tears. The pain is absolutely earth-shattering in it's intensity. _But it's fine._  He reassures himself. _It's fine._  He can afford to lose one limb. _Yes. This might actually be better_. One less piece of himself to sustain - just so long as he can get a piece of this burg afterwards, _he. can. recover._  His senses are overloaded at the pain, _but it's **fine**_ , he chants to himself.

 

The sound of bones cracking and splittering grates against his ear holes, and he cries out as it the bar bites down on his leg, digging it's way through it hungrily. It's only been a minute, but it feels like hours before he hears the sound of violent  ***SNAP!*** as the metal finally crushes the rest of the bones in it's way, and his mouth opens wide in a silent scream. He thought it couldn't hurt worse, but he was wrong. It hurts worse. **Far worse** than anything he's felt before. But as badly as it does, it's still not stronger than his soul's drive to keep him alive. Not as strong as the primal objective all living creatures have. He's probably falling into hysteria, but it doesn't matter. _He's Free_. He can get magic **NOW**.

 

He turns back to the piece burg, still sitting there, pristine, beckoning as a angel's call, and he goes to reach for it ...

 

No.

 

 _No no no no **no no no**_ ... **_Why? Why why why?_**

 

His throat closes up on him and he chokes on nothingness. **He can't move.** He stares down in terror as his forearm. He had been propped up on it to look at his leg, but, now, he can't move it? _Why?_ It's as though it's stuck to the floor. And not only that, it's **burning**. _Oh stars it **burns.**_

 

_This isn't a normal trap._

 

His bones are caught by some of glue and it's as though he's been cemented to the ground. The rest of him is going to dust soon from pure starvation and magic depletion, but he can't move his arm. _He can't move the rest of his body_. He's just, stuck. And it **BURNS**. _Stars, why does it **burn?!**_

 

He starts to cry in earnest, just for his sockets and throat burn even fiercer, because he has no magic left to produce any tears or saliva. So instead he just rasp out dryly, pathetically. _This isn't fair. **THIS ISN'T FAIR!**_

 

A part of him knows it's pointless though. Despair is quickly closing in.  _He didn't listen._  He didn't listen to their warnings. And now he's **never** going to see him again. All because he couldn't wait. He couldn't been just a little bit more patient. **_It's all his fault._** And now he's going to die. But his body won't let him just yet. His soul is screaming at him to move, with the last bit of magic he have, and he turns towards the little slice of freedom. His only salvation. He struggles. _Come on!_ And struggles. _**Please!** please please_ .... And cries. ...  _Papy_ , ** _please_** ... But his whole body is _melting_. And the very essence of his being is falling apart.

 

As his whole body is filled to the brim with pain, he's starting to lose consciousness. ~~pain. pain. pain.~~  He swears he hear piercing, malicious screams of laughter, as if the pits of hell are opening to welcoming him.  Closing in on him. And then, finally ...

 

* * *

 

You yawn and turn on the light for the kitchen. _Mmm_ , you are absolutely **starved**. But then a strange, pungent scent catches in your nostrils, and your appetite is completely shot.

 

"Ohh, **UGH** , yuck! _Fucking gross._ "

 

Your lip curls, and you cover your face as you catch the sight of half melted bones on top of disgusting, bitter blue liquid you recognize as magical waste. **You had caught a pest** _._

 

"Urrgghhh ... I didn't think the new traps were going to be so ... " _Viscerally horrifying._ You go off to find a pair of gloves and a plastic bag, and more to clean up this mess.

 

You're pretty sure this was the asshole had been living in the un-insulated crappy walls of your house for months, far beyond the reach of normal traps. It had kept you up all night with it's skittering, which would be one thing, but then the fucker had been getting brave and had started rummaging your kitchen, and once you had even found it stuffing his mouth in your bread box, before teleporting away, leaving your food covered in disgusting, blue magical saliva and leaving your food absolutely _**ruined.**_

 

Luckily for you, although definitely not your wallet, someone had manufactured a new form of trap, layered with this strange bright red stuff on top? Apparently, combined with the power of a sticky trap, it effectively paralyzed them, and began to kill them almost instantly, making it so the bitties couldn't do jack shit. So, dent in your wallet sure,but your ears will thank you. However ...

 

As you return to the kitchen with a face mask and some heavy duty gloves, you groan. You think if they were going to make a trap like this, they ought to of least have the foresight to enclose like a normal roach or mouse trap. _I don't want to see this shit_ , and going by the remains of the bittie messing on the trap, you can't help but mourn the state of your tile floor. _Ugh. I should of put a paper towel underneath it._ You didn't think this new trap would leave this much of a mess. I _hope this shit doesn't stain._

 

"God, who the hell thought it was a good idea to make things that shit and piss themselves? It's **fucking gross** man."

 

You had been looking forward to a nice breakfast. Maybe some blueberry pancakes with syrup, and a tall glass of milk. But you can't even think about food now without feeling a little queasy. **_God damnit._** It's going to take _forever_ to get that pungent smell out of your nostrils and your memory. Dead bitty and piss and shit an't that a great of a combo.

 

It takes some time, but with a final disgusted sigh, your floor is 'cleaned'. At least as much as it's going to be without you grabbing some damn bleach, and heavy duty air freshener. And as you go to remedy that, a tiny thought niggles in the back of your head: _... guess I should lay down the rest of the traps, then._  You're pretty you've got a **whole family** of the fuckers living in the walls. That thought is followed immediately by,  _... Definitely going to have to down some paper towels though. **Ugh.**_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Reader squished a Blueberry. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> A little bit off topic, but if you were unsatisfied by the ending of Chapter 5, (or even if you _were_ satisfied), there is an **absolutely _soul-wrecking_** of an Alternate Ending written for it by CryingKitten. You can find it here :3 <https://archiveofourown.org/works/13840098>
> 
> If you've been following the story so far, you might be a little confused by this ficlet. When I started 'Justice', it was meant to be a collection of several stories not just one. Thus why the first 3 chapters are named 'Favor I-III' That being said, I'll probably resume the main storyline shortly, but I was feeling inspired by this particularly scenario, and wanted to write it out while the angst was still fresh in my blood.
> 
> Also I'm sorry for post this in the middle of the night. I told one of my readers I was going to publish it yesterday, but then I stumbled into CryingKitten's fan-chapter, which got me to playing BTD (which isn't a good idea to play when you're tired kids, and definitely not good to try to complete **all** the endings at once, unless you've got a heart made of stone. _Holy shit._ ), and after that I was morose that I didn't feel like posting anything. So, uh, apologies for that, Doctor_S. It's here now though. *coughs* >.> Thanks for your patience. ^^''


	8. A Favor VI: Rah rah ah-ah-ah!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You think you're gonna get a break. You don't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got tired of reader calling the Papy Bitty and Sansy bitty by 'tall and short'. Going traditional, cause no one has time for that.
> 
> I tried to write more, but my brain is currently like scrambled eggs. And all my angst has been sucked out due to personal happiness. RIP my non-con sadistic tendencies.

You wish you could say you were still angry, but, after breakfast was eaten and a long, _long_ time spent sulking on the couch with your cats ... and you were just. Sorta. Numb. All except for the occasional stray pierce of pain, lingering from earlier. You couldn't wait any longer. You had already taken too much time away, and you knew just sitting here ... waiting ... was only going to make it worse. So with some difficult, your pry yourself off the couch and make your way to the bitties room. ... _And when the hell did I start calling it **that** in my head?_ _**My** **bedroom.** God damnit_ ...

 

As you enter the room, your eyes zoom in on the cage like a hawk. You see neither Bitty at first, but, you know they're there.

 

You step up to the cage and stare down through the white-painted metal writing and down at the purple plastic house. It was translucent enough you could see both bitties huddles there, shivering just a bit. They were low on food. They were low on love.

 

 _Yeah well, I'm certainly low on at least one of the two_ , so, it was easy enough for you to open the cage, and instead of trying to beckon them out, you completely lift their house up, making sure they knew that it nothing more than a false sense of security. **There was no privacy here.** A repressed pang of anger hit you. Threatening to resurface.

 

Both bitties stared up at you in abject horror, petrified. _They knew they fucked up._

 

"You know you fucked up. Both of you."

 

Your voice is dead and it makes both bitties shudder.

 

"I-i-i'm s-sorr-ry m-ma-ma ..." It's the Papy bitty who makes the first plea. _It always is_. And even though you should be more mad at Sansy for speaking out, the depth of Papy's betrayal hits you harder. _It shouldn't._ You had expected nothing, and yet he had reached for you, inexplicably, but just as quickly threw it away. And now, all his hard won confidence was just absolutely shot.

 

But no more words are necessary as you reach in and swiftly pick up the taller of the two bitties, making him squeak in fear. At least he seemed to have the good sense not to piss on you this time. But the Sans bitty is shining his eyelights at you ... brighter, and brighter it seems. Quickly coming out of his shocked state to defend his brother.

 

"let 'em go, you bitch!"

 

And at that your clench your teeth, as well as your hands, putting Papy into even more distress.

 

"Bitch? .... **I'M** the **bitch**? _You_ ... " You hiss. This conversation is too familiar, and your interaction with Bella from earlier had still left you sore, despite your best efforts to smoother it with food and burying yourself in couch cushions. But at the feel of the skeleton bitty squirming in your hand, unable to hid the tears in his sockets at his rough treatment... you, just ...

 

"You. **Stay right there**. I'm going to get your brother cleaned up - because I'm. such a. **bitch**." You bite off that last word, and Sansy has the good grace to actually flinch when he realizes your words.

 

You try your best not to let anymore of your anger consume you as walk into the bathroom, and feel as though this is all too familiar of a scene. _God damnit_. You want to throw Papy down on the porcelain, but ... reason hits you at the last moment. If it was Sansy, yes, you might of very well of dusted him, but, it's not ... Instead of putting him down, you run the water first, letting it warm, for once. _Yes Sansy. **I'm the bitch.** The biggest ugliest **bitch.** Who runs a god damn hot water bath because I'm such. A Huge. **Bitch.**_

 

Papy is squirming in your hand again and you have to make a concentrated effort not to squeeze. Once the water is warm enough, you stopper the bottom, and let the basin slowly fill up with water. You finally put Papy down inside it.

 

He's a bit alarmed at first, expecting some kind of awful torment, but when he feels the water it's ... warm*. And Papy immediately relaxes.

 

"M-mama?"

 

You look down at him, and give him a just ... disappointed look. It makes him flinch again, and despite the pleasantness of the makeshift bath, your expression takes any sense of joy of it away.

 

You still don't answer either. Instead you were looking at his pelvis again. _God damnit_. A part of you, a part you don't want to acknowledge now, had been looking FORWARD to cleaning him off. You couldn't identify the emotion then, and you still can't now. But now that anomaly of a feeling is gone. _Good riddance_. And just your luck, with amount of time you stayed out your bedroom, those bright orange magic splatters had dried into his bones something fierce, and even sitting in the 'bathtub' wasn't enough to even start to wash it away. The water is still aggravatingly clear.

 

You do have the sense to shut the water off when it's about half way up his chest. You don't want him to think you're trying pseudo-drown him.

 

He looks as you with concern at it, but you're too busy mulling over the pointlessness of things. You're going to have to clean him the manual way. With your finger tips. **And elbow grease.**

 

Papyrus doesn't get much of a chance to think, before you're scrubbing his pelvic bones with the pads of your thumbs and forefingers - and he immediately just shrieks.

 

" **QUIET.** " You hadn't used that tone in what seemed like forever, but it seemed to remember it well enough, and despite his obvious discomfort, he slaps his hands over his mouth and stops immediately.

 

There was nothing doing for this. If it hurt, _well too damn bad_. These stains weren't going to come out by themselves, and you weren't about to have him walking around with that shit for the rest of his time with you. _It's fucking gross._

 

You continue to rub at his bones. Methodically. You're working in circles, scrubbing from the very tops of his femurs and Ilium, and slowly moving your way into the center in a spiral like movement, where the stains are most concentrated.

 

The stains are tough, but, they are beginning to come out. And despite the warm of the water, Papy is beginning to rattle his bones, but has the sense to keep his jaw shut. _Hah. This must hurt like hell. Serves him right._ And once you get to the very center, his pubic symphysis, were most concentrated splatters are, you end up having to rub that area harder than any of the other spots.

 

Papy's rattling intensifies. But you didn't think much of it. And you're just about done cleaning him off when you notice something ... odd. His bones are glowing. What?

 

You had been so concentrated on the scrubbing you hadn't looked at Papy's face in several minutes. And once you do.

 

"WHAT THE SHIT-?!"

 

You pull your hands away like they've been burned.

 

Papy is looking at you with eyelights in the shape of hearts, and at this point he can no longer control his panting.

 

"M-mama ... please ... don't stop." And he grates his pelvis against the porcelain in a manner that would put many a pop celebrity idol to shame.

 

 _Nope. NOPE. I'm out. **I'm fucking out**._ You don't stop. You don't pass go. You're out the bathroom door and shutting it behind you with a slam, not caring that you've left Papy alone by himself.

 

_What the fuck was that? It was like ... like he was turned on? **What the fuck.**_

 

Your brain panics for a moment, before rational snaps in and your eyes zoom in on your computer. After drying your hands on your pants, for lack of a towel, you're speeding over there and pulling up the nearest search tab.

 

"Bitty Bones Bones Glowing."

 

And you're immediately greeted with several scientific articles ... and a few shady looking ones that made you think you should of turned on safe search.

 

You pulled up the first legitimate looking article you see and read ... it.

 

_No. Fucking. Way._

 

**Papy was in heat.**

 

And you wanted to scream. _What in the 10 fuckity fucks. I DID NOT SIGN UP FOR THIS!_ Yes you had a strange sorta feeling watching him behave for once, but, _Jesus tap dancing Christ._

 

Going by the research, Bitties don't all come to sexual maturity at the same time, and it's possible for a Bitty to go into heat earlier than usual, if they experience any type of emotional instability. Switching from his natural desire to bond and love and be loved by you, to fearing that you'd do the worse to him and his brother ... well, that must of done it. So he was naturally fucked up at the moment.

 

There were a few more pointers on how to actually 'deal' with the heat, but you just. You just couldn't. Reading anymore into it was too much right now. You don't know why you were so freaked out by it, but ... well shit you just fucking were.

 

You took a few more minutes to gather your bearings, before you walked back into the bathroom.

 

Papy was still in a state of bright orange, and you cringed. _God damnit_. You thought these bitties were still young, why the fuck did this happen? And going by the document, once they hit this critical stage, their magic finally starts to actually kick in. _Fucking shit_. _What if the Sans bitty is next?_ The possibilities and consequences for that ... were ... not good.

 

You walk over to the basin stiffly.

 

"M-mama?" He's still panting and looking at you. Longingly. Deliriously. For safety. His pelvis has actually formed a full for genitals and _OF FUCKING COURSE THEY'RE FEMALE_ **. And you. Just. Could not. There's going to have to be another way.  _I WILL find another way._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *(Yes, we know. Skeleton monsters aren't supposed to feel temperature. Well, in this world, they do. Live with it.)  
> **(Papy wants to get fucked, not do the fucking. Lady genitals makes that the easiest. Make sense?)
> 
> I got suuuuuper distracted the past week, and even though it spurred me to write like ... well over 20000 words total split between different fics, it ended up leaving 'Justice' hanging in the dust. I know it's a short thing, but, I hope you all got some satisfaction (and mild horror) out of it anyways. What is reader going to do next? Find out next time on Dragon bal-er 'Justice'. :3


	9. The Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens when you put a volatile person with a victim mentality in a room full of crying bitties? Ready, set, _go~_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: misdirected hate, **excessive snuff, disturbing to a god damn tee - please proceed with caution.**
> 
> This chapter was a bit of a disjointed mess. Skip it if it feels weird. It's just here for propriety.

 

* * *

 

 

You hear it. That small, tiny wail. It pierces against your ears, but not as the bad as the pain you're suffering every day. Still, they cry. Even as you curl into a ball on the floor, and try not to yourself.

 

_Bitties. Bitties. Fucking **Bitties**._

 

_Why the fuck were you stuck with them all?_

 

_Smelly, gross, disgusting things - why do they deserve **understanding**? Why do they deserve to be **cared for**?_

 

And still, they sob.

 

You feel a tug at your pants and you look down sharply.

 

There's a tiny bitty, a child sized one ... not quite teen, not quite toddler. He's looking up at you with tear filled eyes. And he's pointing to his mouth with his phalanges. _Hungry_. _He's hungry._

 

So, you stick your finger down his little bitty throat.

 

His already huge eye sockets widen and immediately he tries to draw away, but you keep your finger shoved into him. He tries to bite down, but it isn't enough to hurt you. _Not more than you already are._

 

Real skeleton monsters don't need to breathe, _but bitties..._

 

"What's wrong?" You jeer. "I thought you were hungry."

 

Tears fill his sockets and he tries again to pull back, pushing at your finger in vain. But you clamp your thumb down on his chest, and hold onto him tighter, blocking his little esophagus and the airways that are normally invisible.

 

You can hear him trying to cry and gasp against your finger, the idiot cutting off even more of his air supply in his panic. This probably wasn't what he thought would happen when he wandered over to you. _He didn't think about you._ Like everyone else he only thought about himself. _Well, at least he won't be thinking much more soon._

 

His eyelights begin to turn fuzzy, he evacuates on himself involuntarily, tears flowing down his little white cheeks. He's starting to spasm against your finger, but you don't let go. _Soon._ It only takes a minute before he completely stiffens up and his eyelights go out. A few seconds more, and he turns to dust, leaving your finger covered in it. _Good. Fucking ass hole_. Although now your hands are partially covered in 'dust'.

 

You clench your fist. It still didn't help. You grimace. That pain still shot through you, like someone had been constantly poking you with a needle for months straight. It's bearable at first, but if you repeat something enough times ...

 

A loud wail stabs your eardrums ... again.

 

You growl darkly in reaction and turn with a glare.

 

There's box placed about 5 feet away from you. You know it's filled with bitties. Just another strange thing about this room. From your first observations, you deduced most of them are relatively stupid, no smarter than dogs, but even the smart ones are more like children than anything. Meaning they can't do shit. You still aren't sure how this last one managed to get out. The cardboard walls were too high.

 

You had been left here with them. Trapped in this room with no where to go. _No visible exit in sight_. And despite your pain, you had looked. _You had tried._

 

What you did know that ever since dusting that first bitty those cries have turned louder. Scratching greedily against your brain. You doubt any of them had seen what happened. The tone of the cries are the same. Lonely. _Hungry_. You wondered if they even realized what those muffled sounds from before were. Their brother being **finger-choked** to death.

 

 _Why can't they understand. Why can't they tell how much it hurts you?_ You fight off another batch of tears. _What were you expected to do?_

 

You try to keep your urges down. You try to keep from snapping. But then one particularly screechy high pitch wail sounds out and you feel something in you crack.

 

You walk over to the box, and without even giving them a hint of warning, you kick it as hard as you fucking can.

 

It's no more than a simple cardboard box, and bitties don't weigh all that much to begin with, so it goes flying high. Screams of satisfying terror fill the air. You notice some bitties get jostled from the box and go flying outside it in different directions. Some hit the wall and are instantly dusted, while others are knocked onto different places on the floor, either out cold or scrambling to get away. _To find safety._ You frown, but you let the little ones run.

 

You walk up to the now slightly battered box, and notice a few bitties actually managed to survive. Of course they're covered in the dust of their friends, and they look absolutely traumatized for it. But you want to know what? They were quiet. And it almost made you smile.

 

If you had to be stuck here, the least you could do is cut down the amount of frustration you'd have to endure.

 

 

* * *

 

 

There weren't too many spots in the room to hide to be honest. The area was mostly barren, all except for some outlets, a sink and toilet in the corner, and tables strewn about against the walls. All with different cardboard boxes filled to the brim with random objects.

 

You eye catches a bitty near to the table beside you. They're one of the smaller bitties, but they're surprisingly fast for their size.

 

They're just about to duck behind the table leg when you lean down and snatch them up.

 

They stare up at you with wide fearful eyes. Their eyes naturally fill with tears and they start crying.

 

 _Fuck. **Always** with the crying._ You growl. "Shut up!"

 

And they're petrified solid at the volume of your voice.

 

"Why are you fuckers so god damn inconsiderate ... you never think of anyone but yourself ... "

 

It was bad enough you seemed stuck here, but, with these kind of conditions?

 

"M-mama ...?"

 

Your whole body stiffens.

 

_No. **Fuck no**._

 

You stare down at the bitty like he just called you the worse name imaginable.

 

Despite his fear, he somehow manages to latch onto your thumb, barely avoiding your forefinger covered in his brother's dust.

 

He's not going to be latched on for long.

 

You do the first thing to comes to mind. You reel your hand back snap it to throw the fucker as hard as you can. It's surprisingly fast. He 'poofs' against the wall, like an explosion of the world's most morbid fairy dust. You hear a few gasps from around the room ... probably from the bitties who'd managed to escape the box and see you actually _in_ the act of murder.

 

Well ... you guess it's probably been a little too easy so far.

 

 

* * *

 

 

You're sitting on the ground again. Killing the bitties has taken the edge off your pain, and the silence is blessed be. But ... you wonder how long this is going to last.


	10. Roommate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An Undertomb Papyrus Bitty has a bad time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're wondering what an Undertomb Papyrus Bitty looks like, I was using [this lovely drawing](https://galexia-nova.deviantart.com/art/Smol-bitty-horror-HORRORTALE-UT-603394886) as reference. 
> 
> Connected to - CryingKitten's [Bruises & Bites, Feathers & Fear](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13944162), though you can read them separately and you won't lose much context.

You slam the knife down between the Papy's ribs, making him squeak, but the little fucker knows better than to move. Of course that doesn't stop his fearful rattling.

 

You stare down at him in disgust. _This little asshole._ **How many times are you going to have to tell him?** _Don't scratch my shit? Don't **fuck up** my shit?_ **_Actually pay attention when I fucking talk to you._** You grit your teeth. _Why. Just why?_ _Why do they go crazy over this fucker?_ The aforementioned _'they'_ being your roommate.

 

The jagged looking Papy chirps plaintively.

 

" **Q  U  I  E  T .** "

 

The tiny skeleton stiffens as your voice booms deep, resonating through out the kitchen. Your killing intent right now is **IMMENSE** , and it hovers over you like a shadow just itching to consume everything it's wake.

 

But as angry as you are right now, you can't actually _do_ anything. No matter how much you **hate** this little fucker, you god damn can't do anything of substance. _Why the fuck_ did you agree to house them? _Why_ did you agree to help your roommate?

 

Oh right. Because you had fallen'in love' with them, and decided all they needed was just a little ... 'exposure'. They were already enamored with you, they just needed to get to know you better, right? Plus! You were doing them a favor. Saving them from that smoke and piss filled house (since their mother didn't believe much cages ... or house training, either). Instead you had given them access to a nice sprawling town house, with more rooms than the two of could ever figure out what to do with.

 

And then _this_ little fucker had free reign to make sure you _never_ got your god damn security deposit back.

 

You idly move the knife back and forth in thought, which makes the Bitty shudder uncomfortably, but he seems to have just enough intelligence not to move. It's not his fault, of course. It's not _his_ fault his owner is such a **piece of shit**. You grit your teeth. You had _tried_ to reason with them. You had _tried_ to explain to them the dumber bitties needed to be caged so they could learn not to shit, piss, and scratch all over your god damned apartment. _But **no** ... no what did they do... ?_

 

 _"But ... but ____! I can't do that ... they'll be sad ... and lonely!"_ And they struck at your soul with a soft voice and puppy dog eyes and **you fucking caved.**

 

Just recalling it made you growl and the tiny Papy rattle reactively, though he kept his jaw firmly shut.

 

_"If they're bad, just rub their face in it, and give their ribs a little tap. They'll get the idea."_

 

**_Fucking bullshit._ **

 

You swiftly remove the knife from the unwilling sheath and grab him none too softly. _This is pointless._ _What else am I supposed to do?_ You just wanted to get along with your roommate. You just wanted all this time and money spent to actually be worth a fuck, **_and yet._**

 

You traverse from the kitchen into the living room, and slam the Papy bitty into the waste pile that had TRIGGERED this mess.

 

You had found him minutes earlier right in the middle of doing his business, just like for the 100th and 1 time, and you had fucking screeched in immediate anger. He had stared at you with wild eyes and immediately tried to scramper off and hide, leaving a red trail of half-completed excrement as he did. But you were faster, and you had swooped down at him, and when you caught him, it was EVERYTHING you could do just not to fucking dust him right then and there.

 

Even now as you rub his face in his 'shame', it's not enough to do any long lasting damage. Or any damage at all, really. Not physically anyways. But he definitely squawks in fear and automatic repulsion. He hates it of course. He has no idea why you're doing this to him. **The Papy bitty is an idiot**. And you know that. And even  _the bitty himself_  probably knows that. But your roommate has some very fucking disillusioned ideas about _some_ bitties' intelligence.

 

" **L o o k  a t  w h a t  y o u  d i d.** " You press the bitty harder into the misshapen pile of red, now staining your carpets _indefinitely_. That shit **never** fucking came out, no matter how many times you scrubbed, and how much soap you used, and STILL YOUR ROOMMATE **WOULD NOT FUCKING LISTEN** _._

 

So all your pent up anger is taken out on this otherwise stupid creature. Pushing his skull into his own excrement, almost certainly getting some of it in his cute little eye sockets and tiny jaw. But **You. Don't. Care.**

 

How the **_fuck_** were you meant to deal with **this**? This being the  **culmination of _everything_**  you'd be forced to endure since you took them in months ago. 

 

**F U C K.**

 

You press down on his rib cage and spine, going one step beyond what your roommate had instructed. You knew full well you weren't meant to punish him like this - that this accomplished _nothing_ in the long run. But at the moment, it made you feel fucking FANTASTIC. The rush of  _finally_ having some sort of control in the middle of this _catastrophe_.

 

While the initial set up had been great, after a few months, your roommate had taken to getting frustrated with you, and yelling at you AND **LYING** to you. Doing shit in the house and then BLAMING you for it, like some gaslighting little ass hole. And it apparently didn't matter than YOU WOULD NEVER FUCKING DO ANY OF THAT. They still didn't believe you. And you still had months to go on your lease and-

 

**Whimper.**

 

You growl darkly and shove the Papy bitty harder into his feces. " **Shut it.** "

 

Every bit of anger you had pent up was getting transferred to what was just an easy target. If their roommate was going to fuck up your life, then you're going to fuck up _this_ bitty's life, in some sort of sick cycle.

 

And that's when you notice your fingers are sticky and wet.

 

_**N o .** _

 

" **W H A T      THE**     **F U C K !** **!!!!** "

 

Your fingers are covered in that disgusting bitter red liquid and you shove the bitty down harder in automatic reaction, making him squeak louder.

 

In his fear and desire to be submissive, he's started expelling waste magic again. He was trying his best to please you. To show you, _"I'm not a threat! Please don't hurt me!"_

 

But he has no idea he's fucking up your carpets even more and it JUST ENRAGES YOU EVEN MORE.

 

**FUCK FU CK FUCK FUCJKF UFKC FUK FUCK!!!**

 

**Enough of this.**

 

You clench your fist around the bitty and dizzlingly move him from the carpet to slam him into his cage, on top of the table. It was meant to be his safe spot. The only spot free from any human interference. **His sanctuary**.

 

**AND YOU SHOOK THAT MOTHER FUCKER LIKE IT WAS A GOD DAMN ROCK TUMBER.**

 

 **" STOP. FUCKING. UP. MY. HOUSE!!!!!!" **You screamed that last part at the very top of your lungs.

 

Your neighbors were probably at least a little bit concerned, but you lived in a shitty enough neighborhood that you knew no one would bother to call the police. _**They never did**._

 

And there was no one to here help the Papy bitty currently being slammed on all sides by the padded cage, uncracked, but certainly winded and stunned from the treatment.

 

But you continued to shake it, like you were trying to shake every last bit of your pent up anger from every bang of the bitty against the cage's walls. You bit your lip, and fought back tears. You were so ...  **frustrated.**

 

You had adored your roommate. You wanted nothing more than to have them love you. You had even left your bitties with your parents because they were allergic to the fluffy punies. And still. **Still.**

 

After a good few minutes of self pity, you had slowed down. And then a few more minutes, you finally stopped. You slammed the cage down in the table in finality.

 

Your felt residual adrenaline burn through your veins, but ... as angry as you were. As **pissed** as you were. You couldn't risk actually hurting him. That was the only caveat to this. Because if you did hurt them ... if you did hurt the Papy Bitty ... **and** your roommate caught you ... You were pretty sure your roommate would kill you. Like ... **actually, legitimately** kill you.

 

Instead you stared piercingly into the cage. The bitty staggered, but despite that he had somehow managed to find his way into the corner, taking to shaking and shivering all the while.

 

You felt **nauseous** at the sight. _**How did things get like this?**  _You had _never_ hurt any animals like this. You had _never_ hurt your _own_ bitties like this. You would of sooner **stabbed** a bitch then let any harm come to them. So ... _why?_

 

The Papy bitty is turned away from you, deliberately not making eye contact and curling himself as small as possible not to elicit anymore ire. 

 

You had done this. 

 

And there was no forgiveness to be had for it.

 

But you knew, even staring at the wrecked and terrified bitty, you would end up doing it again, before everything was said and done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I abuse the bold, em, and underline tags. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> This is what happens when I end up being pissed before writing a chapter. Though I don't know if it makes my writing better or worse ... oh well.


	11. Cash Honey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Cash' finally makes himself useful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PS. In case you're wondering who 'Cash' is - please refer to [this lovely lewd picture.](https://wasabi0910.tumblr.com/post/159606177855)
> 
> Dedicated to my favorite little cannibal ... ;)
> 
> **cw: Live 'cannibalism'**

 

* * *

 

 

You were just kinda sitting there. Staring. Watching your Swapfell Papyrus Bitty. He was half clad in his classic purple and black, and looking lazy as fuck. Seriously. He was literally just chilling in a teacup, smoking a cigarette. One that he must of rolled up himself - cause _you know you sure as **fuck** didn't buy him any_.

 

"Hey boo?"

 

He shifts one-grody looking red eye to you.

 

"Yeh?"

 

"Want me to get you off?"

 

He's sending the teacup half reeling and tripping over himself to get to you in record time.

 

" **FUCK YES.** "

 

You **never** offer to do anything sexy with him. And it's not like he hasn't tried to convince you to, using every ēlicitus and wanton move in the book. So when he gets to you, he's already on his knees and panting like a dog in heat. Well, it isn't too inaccurate. Already his crotch area is glowing a familiar purple.

 

Normally you wouldn't even be looking at him in that state. Contrarily you've already reached your finger down to rub his crotch and he HOWLS, at the new and welcomed feeling.

 

"Mama ... OH, **Mama** ~." His one visible eyelight turns into a heart.

 

"Mmm ..." Despite your otherwise enthusiastic rubbing, your eyes seem a bit ... distant.

 

You roll him over with your palm, and swiftly strip him of his clothes, which he is all than more than happy to allow.

 

"Hey ... you know what would be really nice?"

 

He's barely sane enough for conscious thought, but he manages a, "Yeah?"

 

"How about yous make some ecto-flesh for me?" And your eyes take on an uncharacteristic gleam.

 

The only time he's seen that gleam is when you're highly interested in something, and it's almost never about him. At least until now. Suddenly all those months of your disinterest in his advances make sense. _Of course! You must prefer 'em ... **meaty. Well** , he's more than happy to oblige._

 

He summons you a well rounded and fleshed out body, doing much more than filling out all the curves. He's got an incredible set of breasts and a nice plump pussy to match, which he's lewdly spread open for you in invitation.

 

"If I knew this is what you liked honey, I would have summoned my body for you ages ago." He purrs.

 

He's not exactly wrong. You idly lick your lips as your eyes scan the goods, spending a tantalizing amount of time doing so.

 

"Good boy ..." You coo in approval.

 

You indulge his 'good' behavior by rubbing his sweet little pussy.

 

He yowls at you, his make-shift cigarette long since haven fallen out of his mouth and forgotten. He's not even satisfied with just your touch, as he's proactively grinding into your finger, clearly wanting **_more_**.

 

But you don't let him have his way. You're still just rubbing his little clit, and staring at him.

 

You feel him start to tense regardless, his eye sockets shut tight.

 

"Oh, are you going to come already baby?"

 

"GODS, YES!! FUCK ME FUCK ME **FUCK ME!!!!** "

 

"What a good, sweet boy you are ..."

 

He doesn't notice the wicked grin you've dawned on your face.

 

He doesn't notice the fork heading straight for his plump little stomach.

 

He DOES notice when he's at the brink of orgasm and you SKEWER HIM.

 

" **AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!** "

 

He shrieks like a banshee, his body involuntarily convulsing. He's clearly had some perverted broken type of orgasm, going by the liquid flowing out of his cunt, but it's certainly, quickly overridden by just how much PAIN he must be in.

 

To be honest, it was difficult to get Bitties to sustain their ecto-flesh after they take damage - at least for very long. It's their natural instinct to just 'poof' it away to avoid further injury after all. Unfortunately for 'Cash' ... you've studied Bitties. **Thoroughly**. Hell, it's part of your full time job, when you weren't trying to take of this lazy ass hole. Of course _now_ ...

 

He's scrambling his legs and arms around uselessly, hyperventilating, and even though he tries to dissipate his flesh HE FUCKING CAN'T. No, you've done this enough to know if you compress the magical ley-lines in just the right way, **he can't do shit**.

 

He's stuck to the table, screaming and bleeding magic. _All over your good table cloth_.

 

You huff in annoyance.

 

"Gods. You don't have to be so loud about it."

 

He finally comes to his senses enough, stopping his screams to yell, " **WHY!?** "

 

"Tch. Because you're **a piece of trash bitty who wasn't worth _half_ the money I paid for you."**

 

You spit darkly from behind yourself, as you're already making your way into the cupboards ... grabbing stuff.

 

"All you do is sit around all day, scrapping down my good cigarettes, and drinking my good liquor."

 

You pull out a nice ceramic dish from the back of the cabinet. It's white porcelain with a blue floral design on it. You think it might of came from your grandmother's. _Perfect._

 

"And if that wasn't enough, you've also been whoring yourself out in the back alleys- and **DON'T FUCKING LIE TO ME ABOUT IT.** " You push a button near your stove as he opens his mouth to protest. "I've got cameras all over this place, inside **and** out."

 

He's too busy crying from the pain to even look a bit ashamed.

 

"I've seen you luring in those stray ferals in heat, or those back alley Johns. Now I really don't give a shit where they get their money from, but you know what burns me? Somehow, despite housing you for months, rent free, I don't see a **fucking cent** of it."

 

You're pulling open another cabinet and grabbing some containers, placing them in the dish for ease of carrying.

 

"I could almost forgive you if you decided to share some of your 'earnings'. I could almost tolerate being some half-assed pimp. But since you've decided to be such a selfish, indulgent piece of trash, I might as well get **something** out of ya."

 

Your frown has upticked into a grin now. When you place the dish down, you lay out the containers previously housed inside so he can see them ... albeit upside side. Included among them is one of his counterpart's favorite condiments.

 

"After all, **Honey-glazed Ecto-Flesh** is a delicacy that can't be beat." You lick your lips.

 

And he FREAKS.

 

He starts screaming and trying to do anything and everything to get away from you, but, it's not like he can actually do anything but flail uselessly, scratch up your table, and relieve himself in terror. Though that last bit does save you from having to 'clean him out', you mourn your high-thread count egyptian-cotton kitchen cloth that's more or less ruined now, and wish you had thought enough to put a towel down underneath him, or something.

 

"You just have to be so god damn difficult, right up until the fucking end. See it your way then."

 

You pull an unknown object from the ceramic dish and stretch out his leg. He tenses and immediately tries to jerk it away, but you're far stronger than he could ever hope to be, and keeping him still is child's play. Instead of stabbing him again though you're ... tying him up?

 

You push his legs up, almost all the way up to the fork spearing him, and spread him even more lewdly than before. Of course it's just to tie his legs, knees and ankles together with cooking string - and you quickly wrap it around him, making sure there's no coming loose from the position. You push his plump arms above his head and do the same for his elbows and forearms, until he's absolutely, one-hundred percent immobile. You're really happy you studied with those 'preserved' bitties from your work.

 

"There now. That's _much_ better."

 

Despite his compromising position, and inevitable death, he's still pleading with you. "Mama .... mama please. Please ... _**please**_ don't do this." He's crying big, purple blubbering tears.

 

Further staining your table cloth, you think irately. You scoof and turn away from him, walking towards the refrigerator and pulling out more items.

 

"You've already had a million chances over the past few weeks to fess up or show you're actually worth something."

 

And when you turn and walk back to him, you're carrying another bundle.

 

"I-i'll be good. God mama, I promise. I really, _**really**_ promise!" His voice had taken on more than a little bit of a crazed quality.

 

You scowl deeper at him. You then shove a baby carrot up his cunt and his ass and he SCREECHES, because both of those are clearly too big for him, but his ecto-flesh is still so wonderfully accommodating.

 

"Tch. You nasty whore. You can take these whole without a problem. Gods - hopefully the roasting process will burn up any 'bugs' you might of caught from the outside."

 

You shake your head and sigh.

 

He's started blubbering again, but you're more or less ignoring him at this point.

 

Now that he's all nice and immobile, you can remove the fork ... at least enough to detach him from the table. You place the Bitty, fork and all, in the nice white ceramic dish. You take a basting brush and slather him with a mix of oil and honey, making sure to get in all his nooks and crannies, not leaving a spot unbathed.

 

You then sprinkle him with some salt and pepper, which makes him both cry and sneeze, and it would almost be cute ... if you weren't still so 'saucey' with him. You giggle a bit hysterically at your silent pun.

 

Not a moment later you hear the oven beep. _Ooooh - preheat is done!_ _Better finish this **fast**._

 

You surround him with a array of veggies and just looking at him like this ... your mouth begins to water. God. He is going to be _**delicious**_.

 

Despite his agony, and despite what seems to be futile, he makes one last plea to you.

 

"Mama ... Mama, _**PLEASE**_ ... "

 

But the look you give him is dead, and all you reply with is, "30 minutes ought to be enough."

 

He cries out in despair as you pop open the oven door, shove the ceramic dish inside, sealing his fate.

 

The bitty is immediately blasted with 450 degree heat, suffocating him and making the thin liquid concoction on his bitty flesh light up and dance.

 

It's usually about this time a living creature would be losing consciousness. ... ... though where you stabbed him in his ley-lines means he's going to feel Every. Single. Minute. Of it.

 

So while you entertain yourself, reading the latest scientific magazine, your Bitty is finally making himself useful. As the heat sinks into his skin, and the oil and honey makes his flesh blister wonderfully. The pain is unfathomable, and he half thinks in his hysteria that he smells  **amazing**. And that's about when the last of his sanity breaks and he just ... can't.

 

Well - that's probably for the best anyhow.

 

...

 

..

 

.

 

When you pull the ceramic dish out, just 15 minutes later, (he wasn't a very _big_ bitty, after all), you have a much lusted after, but even harder to get, **delicacy** awaiting you.

 

His eyelight is completely gone out, of course. He probably lost consciousness about five minutes, or sooner, into the process. His once purple ecto-flesh, is now a crisp and juicy looking golden brown. You feel yourself salivate and sigh happily in anticipation.

 

You click a pair of tongs and pull him and some of the roasted veggies out of the bowl, placing him on a nice plate, and prepare to dig in. Considering the sharpness of the fork and knife on the table, he'll be lucky if he stays unconscious.

 

...

 

 **He doesn't**.

 

Well - he's not exactly moving either, but you can see his eyelight begin to spawn, and wavering in his skull.

 

Oh, this is even better than you imagined.

 

You grin at him, as you take your knife and cut the threads keeping him pressed together, and slide the sharp blade down the flesh and bone of his thigh, detaching his delectable looking leg from his hip bone.

 

His eye light nearly turns to static at the pain, but, he can't do anything. Moving is no longer an option. _Crying_ is no longer an option. The cooking process burnt almost all of that out. The only thing keeping him alive is that fork still situated in his ley-lines, and you cooked him _just_ long enough to get him nice and crisp, but not enough to burn off his pain receptors.

 

So your piece of trash bitty, turned heavenly gold, gets to experience. Each. And Every. Cut. Into his precious flesh. One leg ... two legs. One arm. Two arms.

 

You make a show of licking his bones clean, something he sure wanted of you before.

 

Finally you dig into the meat of him, delicately slicing up his lower half, piercing through his genitals and nomming divinely on his rump.

 

You slice off his pair of tits and savor the fatty morsels.

 

But ... the show can't go on forever. You've about reached the forks suppressing his leylines, and if you go much further, he's bound to dust.

 

"Well kitten ... I want to say it was nice knowing you ... though, we both know that isn't true." You take a moment to lick your lips, savoring the last of his sweet juices. "But, hey - you can rest peacefully knowing you finally satisfied your Mama in the end. Isn't that wonderful?"

 

As you quickly detach the fork from his stomach, his eyelight immediately extinguishes.

 

And ... **_finally_** ... he receives the invaluable release of death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And down ... and down ... and down we go ... straight to the depths of infathomable depravity.~


	12. A Favor VII: In Which Nothing Of Interest Happens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You deal with stuff. For better or worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why did I write exposition for an abuse fic? This chapter is shockingly nice - compared to every other chapter I've written anyways. 
> 
> **CW: None**
> 
> _So nice, what the hell am I doing?_

You stare at a cardboard box. It's a familiar box. Small. Brown. Square. Enough room for a bitty. Which is exactly what's in there.

 

You had done your best to ignore the turned-on skeleton in your basin as you dried off his bones, probably half-assedly, but you had put a towel in the container waiting for him, so hopefully the rest would take care of itself, if need be.

 

In the middle of freaking out about his heat, you had forgotten part of why you had taken Papy out to begin with. _To clean the bloody cage_. You could hear some sounds coming from your bedroom, and you knew it was the other bitty but ... ugh. Speaking of which, what were you supposed to do with _him_ now?

 

First thing's first, you needed to clean their cage. You are loathe to listen or 'obey' anything your supposed 'best friend' tells you to do, but ... to be honest, the smell of it was beginning to burn into your senses, and if nothing else, _your comfort_ did come first.

 

The carrier you originally took the brothers home in has air holes poked into it, so, while the Papyrus bitty may not 'need' to breath, he at least had the option. Unfortunately, it's doing nothing to damper the whines and scuffling coming from inside, which just leaves everything else to your imagination. Which is worse ... _ **so** much worse_. You walk away from the box before you lost your god damn mind.

 

You enter your bedroom again and hard eyeball the cage. As expected, the Sansy bitty is standing as close to the cage door as he can, his eye glowing familiarly ... and that's about it. Sansy's triggers apparently weren't the same as his brother, and thank fuck for that. But, you _still_ need to figure out what to do with **him**. That's when you got an idea.

 

As you approach the cage, the growls suddenly stop. He erratically scans you with his eyelights and -

 

" ... my brother ... "

 

He gives you one more once over before he growls ferociously at you - as ferociously as any 3 inch creature could anyhow.

 

" **w h a t   d i d   y o u   d o   w i t h   m y   b r o t h e r ?** "

 

His voice has an awful lot of reverberation ... once again, for a 3 inch critter. Your lips downturn in displeasure and you slant your eyes at him threateningly.

 

"Your brother, _as always_ , is **fine**. I gave him a nice warm bath and now he's drying off. Do you have **anymore** accusations you'd like to hurl at me?" You clenched your teeth. Suddenly all the insults from earlier are rushing back at you. Sansy was _already_ on thin ice. His infractions had kept adding up. Biting you on first contact. Accusing you of being untrustworthy. Cursing at you more times than you could count. Pissing on your clothes and then pretending like it wasn't him. Trying to **manipulate** you into obeying him. Consistently getting pissed off whenever you handled the Papyrus bitty in any way, and ... Your whole body stiffens with unreleased tension. How much more were you going to endure from him? The aura hanging around you is dark. Looming shadows, with tendrils just itching to reach out and destroy the next thing that pisses you off. **Preferably Sansy**.

 

Well, the bitty may be many things, but stupid isn't one of them ... at least when it comes to reading the air in the room. His shoulders hunch and he backs down. Little blue beats of sweat dot his skull, and his eyelights flicker nervously instead of threateningly, like a dog with it's tail between it's legs.

 

"Do you want me to clean your cage?"

 

He blinks at you.

 

"W... wha?"

 

"Do you want me. To clean. Your cage?" You speak slowly, patronizing, like you're talking to someone stupid.

 

He must be taking a minute to process the question, but a moment later his bone-brows furrow and he says,

 

"y-yes?"

 

You reach towards the cage, but stop suddenly to lock eyes with him.

 

"I am only going to give you one warning. If you bite me... no, if you harm me, in _any way_ , **I will not hesitate to dust you**." It's not a bluff. The dark tendrils of threat are still curled around you. It's only going to take one little thing for you to throw the bitty against the wall and watch him explode into bitty dust, Papyrus's health be damned.

 

His eyelights go out at threat.

 

You're about to unlock the cage when another thought occurs to you.

 

"Anything you do that _isn't_ lying still in my hand will result in immediate punishment, **is that understood**?"

 

You absolutely do not trust that Sansy's magic hasn't been activated yet.

 

But he simply nods robotically at you. Again.

 

You pinch open the mechanism to open the cage, fulling expecting him to dash out of it regardless of your warning. But he doesn't. _Surprise, surprise_.

 

You scoop the bitty up into your hand, and as you told him to, he lies there more or less limply. You can tell he's struggling not to fidget though, and he bones involuntarily twitch at the repressed impulse.

 

You take that moment to take a good look at him, since you already have him this still and close. Piece of shit he may be, but he _is_ still **your** bitty after all.

 

He's a bit dirty looking, but other than that he seems healthy ... well, if a lack of cracked bones and his chalk white coloring were anything to go by. He was always smaller than his brother, though why was beyond your knowledge. You frown to yourself.

 

You really _did_ want to get along with the Sansy. It wasn't in your nature to be so abusive. None of the animals or creatures you had owned, either now or in the past, had elicited such visceral reactions from you. At the heart of it, you knew it was wrong. You'd be blind not to fucking acknowledge he was just doing his because he was scared, and felt like he had no other options. It was unfortunate he had landed with you ... both him and his brother. But there was nothing to be done about it. It was either you take care of them, or you might as well just set them outside for the birds of whatever else animal to pick them up. _Can't you be responsible, **just once**? Can't you show you're not a piece of a shit, just **once**?_ You grit your teeth. This train of  thought isn't leading you anywhere good, and you still have too fucking much to do to be ruminating like this.

 

You immediately exit your bedroom, but unfortunately you still hadn't given a lot of thought of where to put him. You just wanted to **get out**. To be honest, the places you could put him right now were limited. Papyrus was occupying the only other 'designated bitty space', after all. The further you walk away from your bedroom, to just ... _somewhere_ , the more Sans is stiffens and fidgets. Papyrus's whines and squeaks were audible by now, and you know it's making his brother worried. He's probably fighting off his every instinct not to do 'something'. ... a ridiculous part of yourself actually admires it. Just a little. _Don't go down that thought way again._ You frown to yourself. _Another time, another place._

 

You move far enough away from the living room that Papyrus' whimpers become muffled, and you find yourself in the kitchen instead.

 

 _God, where to put him?_ Your frown deepens as you scan the area. You had to make sure he wasn't going to get out, but you also wanted to leave him some sort of 'breathing' room. It meant all the 'container' like objects in here were more or less out of the question. He _was_ more or less behaving at the moment, after all ... though the thought of sticking him in the fridge would be somewhat tempting, any other time.

 

" ... papy ... "

 

 _You have to be kidding me_.  Are you really going to have to stick him in the fridge anyways? You stare down in disbelief at Sansy. He wasn't moving, not really. He had pretty much kept his promise there. But his eyelight was flickering erratically.

 

"you said you didn't hurt him ..."

 

" **And I didn't.** "

 

He jerks his head up at you to glare at you in accusation. Well, you can't say you could _completely_ blame him. It really did sound like the other bitty was being tortured, one room away. In a way, it's not _too_ far from the truth ... just, the means of the torture are probably much more different than he believed.

 

Still, the dead look you give him is response enough. You're being _very_ generous right now. He had moved. He probably didn't even acknowledge his head jerking up at you as moving. It was an impulse. You understood those well enough, but you give him time to process what he did.

 

Once he does his eyelights immediately go out. He stiffens again.  _After all you had said any infraction meant_ ...

 

But you weren't going to do anything to him, despite what you said. The fact he seems to of acknowledged his mistake and immediately rectified it soothes any _impulses_ you might have as well.

 

Instead you look up to scan the kitchen for _someplace_ to put him ... for a neutral a container as possible. That's when your eyes hit a familiar sink, and,  _Aha. Yes ... yes you suppose that might do_.

 

You're already walking towards it, and that's when Sans' eyes become active again, enough to turn to see where you're heading. His bones involuntarily start rattling.

 

"no. no **no** .... no **_please_**."

 

Well you can't exactly blame him for this reaction either - and while it's not your ideal either, you've a lack of other viable options at the moment. ... Well, no, there _are_ other options ... the problem is all of those constitute as a far worse torture than being left in the sink, post-traumatic stress, aside.

 

Before you do anything with him, you at least plug the sink up with the drain stopper. This really _wasn't_ meant to be a torture.

 

"Calm down." You sigh in exasperation. "I'm not turning the disposal on. There's no place else to put you right now, so you're just going to bear with this."

 

With the drain actually plugged, he calms down a fraction, but you know he's still on edge from days earlier. Regardless you put him down on the metal surface, and he quickly mvoes and curls himself up into a corner, as far away from the drain as possible.

 

As much as you'd like to just leave him here, with no other effort, you also know that's not an option. You still don't trust his powers haven't been activated, and the last thing you need is an escaping bitty to deal with. You look around the kitchen for a solution and that's when something familiar catches your eye. _Aha._

 

The next minute Sansy finds the otherwise wide opening of the sink being blocked, shutting out almost all light, except for a sliver.

 

You had covered the sink with a cutting board.

 

Well, it's not like you hadn't done it before. While it's not a perfect fit, it's enough to make sure that if Sansy _can_ teleport, he won't be going anywhere anytime soon.The small slither of space also gives him some 'breathing' room.

 

With that taken care of, maybe you can finally deal with of what you've needed to do all day.

 

* * *

 

Cleaning the cage wasn't all that difficult. A pair of gloves, a bottle of animal-safe cleaning spray, and some paper towels were about all you required. It took about 30 minutes in total, and the cage looked absolutely pristine afterwards - even more than before you had initially put the bitties in it.

 

The bitties were still separated though, and you were currently on the couch, pinching the bridge of your nose, still trying desperately to figure out what to do with Papy.

 

He was still whimpering in the box. While a part of you knew it was too much to hope for that he would of magically found himself dropping out of it ... going by the increasing frustrated whimpers, you knew that probably wasn't the case.

 

Truthfully, you were emotionally and physically exhausted. It's not like it took too much these days. A damned feather could touch you and you'd fall over. That's how much stamina you have right now.

 

But Papy's whimpers scratched at your ears again, and _Gods damnit_ ... You pushed the pillow you were previously resting on over your ears and clench your teeth. You were just about at the limit, and there were still too many things you needed to deal with.

 

You glanced towards the computer again. _A way to deal with bitty heats._ You could always look it up, or ... your eyes scanned your living room again. There's nothing to be found, _of course._

 

**There was no avoiding this.**

 

You reluctantly stood up and dragged yourself to your computer. You turned it on and went into the unpleasant task of reading all those articles, the ones you had quickly closed the last time you had done this.

 

"Bitty heat ... bitty ... _heat_." You mumble idly as you search the web.

 

A few of the things you found out: A bitty's first heat is not all that different from any other they will experience, though the beginning of it will likely startle them. There were several ways to take care of their heat, and as a responsible bitty owner, you  _had_ to take care of it. Ignoring it wasn't an option - unless you want a dusted bitty. **Really.**

 

While a bitty could be taught ways to deal with their own ... needs, it sets them up for disaster in the long run if they don't have _someone_ to connect with. Whether it be another bitty, or, ideally, **their owner**. It struck you as rather odd, irritatingly so, considering most reproducing species favor their own kind for, well, _sex_ \- but Bitties _were_ manufactured, after all. This was probably done for more of the convenience of the owner than anything else, but it was anything **but** convenient to you.

 

Helping Papyrus was basically what it boiled down to most sentient creatures, ... and that fact alone made you rub your face and want to cry in frustration. Your cats were fixed. You didn't have to deal with the kind of bullshit these articles were suggesting. But if you didn't do **something** to help this, the pheromones Papy were giving off were going to get strong enough to start wafting to his brother, and then that might set off a whole _other_ host of problems.

 

You clenched your jaw. It wasn't ideal. It wasn't what you wanted. But ... it had to be you.

 

* * *

 

 

 

So you took a q-tip and you f*cking dealt with it. You hated it. You hated every moment of it. Some people might like this, might even get off on it, but you couldn't stand it. Even if they were sentient, they were more like pets to you, and you're not suppose to do what you're doing right now to pets. But you bore with it. For as long as it took to get it out of his system. Which thank fuck wasn't too long. After this first introduction their heat stops rather quickly, having been 'satisfied'. Even if it was just by unnatural means.

 

"Mama ..."

 

You glance down at the bitty, reluctantly, after the fact. Compared to before, he was practically mute. You had carried Papyrus as far away from the kitchen as you could. The least amount of sounds that traveled the better.

 

Now he was clinging to your finger, just as he had been through the whole ... _thing_ , though much more drowsily than before. You knew what you did meant the bond he felt towards you would strengthen - faster than ever. Before their first heat, their bonds with people and other bitties were variable - unattached. But now ...

 

As the Papyrus bitty cuddled your finger, you knew you had just sealed him to be stuck with you. Forever. Unless you deliberately dusted him yourself.

 

_Gods damnit._

 

As angry and emotional as you got sometimes, you knew you wouldn't have the heart to do something like that.

 

You hadn't been the best bitty owner. Not by a long shot. You fucked up. **A lot.** That was your general lot in life. But ... watching Papyrus cuddle your finger, you thought, _what the hell were you supposed to do_?

 

His heat was quelled. The pheromones themselves should wear off in about an hour, and then it'd be safe to put him back into his cage. Safe and sound. _And away from you._ Maybe then you could actually think for a minute.

 

You still had to deal with Sansy though ...

 

Papyrus was tolerable, pleasant even, but ... _Sansy_ ...

 

You frown.

 

Your patience had it's limits.

 

Getting 'rid' of him was usually at the fore-front of your mind. He had done everything in his power to piss you off - _far and beyond_  anything his brother had ever done.

 

You scratch at your neck with your freehand. _This ... none of this shit was ideal._

 

"Mama ...?"

 

Your thoughts are broken and your eyes focus on Papyrus again.

 

"Yes, bitty?"

 

He flinched at your return to non-pet names, but not as much as he might of before. _The bond was at work_. He cuddled closer to your finger.

 

"I love you, Mama."

 

 ** _Fuck shit_** \- and numerous other curses made their way through your head.

 

He held himself even closer to your finger, as if sensing your displeasure.

 

"I'm ... sorry, Mama. I'm sorry for wanting to go back ... for wanting to leave."

 

 _Oh?_ Well this was unexpected. You tilt your head at the bitty inquisitively.

 

"You helped me and my brother so much ... and ..." Papyrus voice was beginning to waver. You could even see little orange tears gathering in his sockets.

 

 _Nooooo. No no **no.**_ _**Please**. Anything but **that**_. You kept your face straight though.

 

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry Mama ... **_Please don't leave us_**."

 

An arrow of emotion unexpected went straight through your heart.

 

He clenched your finger even tighter, and his bones rattled just a bit.

 

"Please ... please don't leave us, Mama. We'll do anything you say, just ... please, _don't leave_."

 

You knew then the bond must of cemented. Papyrus would never of spoke for his brother like this before - and even he had been leery of you after your initial interactions with him.

 

It didn't seem to matter anymore.

 

You knew then that for better or worse, the Papyrus bitty was bonded to you.

 

Now you'd have to deal with any consequences that came from it.


	13. Bones/Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we find out the 'Justice' Universe is just a little more f*cked up than we first thought.
> 
> Two fics in one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written 1/2 a month ago. It was gross. I hesitated to post it was so gross. **Too bad.** Here's some grossness.
> 
> Part One, CW: Negligence of the Highest Order, Senseless Violence, Human Waste **(Graphic Description)** , Drowning w/o Death, Self-denial
> 
> Part Two, CW: Mental Abuse, Bitty Waste **(Graphic Descriptions)** , Forced Dependence, Despair

 

* * *

 Aaah, Bitties.

 

The thing about bitties you have to realize, a lot of folks really don't see them as anymore than just dolls. _Robots_ even. It doesn't occur to a lot of them that these tiny critters might have emotions. _Their bones are just plastic, aren't they? It's not like they bleed, right?_ To them, bitties just look like great 'toys' for their children - interactive, empathetic, **perfect**. Oh sure, there are _some_ people who see them as living creatures. Those few, lucky bitties get treated just like you would any other pet, with care, kindness, and compassion. Of course you also have those that ... well, they 'treasure' their bitties too, though it's more by the way of 'preserving' them than anything. A majority of the time though, it's just parents looking for a better alternative to phones or internet to entertain their young ones.

 

That's how one more bitty came to find himself in a cardboard carrier, on his way to a new home, and a new life.

 

At first the Papyrus type bitty was full of joy and hope. He was sad to leave his fellow bitties, of course, but he knew this would be the start of something amazing. It didn't matter that his new owner was a little less careful with him than 'Mama' had been. He could already feel his bond with them forming, just as he was created to feel. His soul was desperately reached out of them. It was screaming, ' **Love me!** '

 

Even when he found out that his new owner would actually be a smaller human, he didn't mind it. When his new owner opened the carrier and gawked at him with their big bright eyes, he just smiled kindly at them. Then they **SQUEALED**. It was high-pitched, and loud enough to hurt his hearing, then he was swooped up dizzingly quick and  squeezed **tight** and it **HURT**.

 

He couldn't hold back his loud whimpers, and he looked to the older human desperately. He sought some sort of savior, some sort of a rescue. They weren't paying him any attention though. They were only smiling at the unbridled joy on their little darling's face, assured they had done right.

 

**And that was the start of the Papyrus Bitty's hell.**

 

* * *

 

 _Day ... whenever_. Honestly, he'd lost count. There was no real way for him to track it. The lights in the bitty house were on all the time, but even if they weren't, it's not like the humans left him with anything to mark the days out on. He's lucky they even remember to give him food and water. Of course the older human complains about it. _**It's** just supposed to be a toy right? Why should **it** have needs, like an animal?!_

 

They don't realize the **_it_** has emotions. No matter how he tries to express himself. No matter how he squeals, screams, and pleas, it all gets ignored. He wasn't terribly loud to begin with. Not versus his brothers. Not for his  **type**. But, no matter how he got thrown around, stuffed away, battered and bruised ...

 

**He stilled loved his human.**

 

And he couldn't explain it.

 

He couldn't begin to tell you why he still loved them. Considering how he'd been treated, he should of been repulsed, but ... instead he would do anything for them. They weren't always cruel to him, after all. He slept with them in their bed every night, even smootheringly pulled into their chest and arms. The **love** he received from them was enough to solidify the bond; and because of that, **he let them do anything to him.**

 

Even as he sat on the bathroom counter top, watching them urinate, he didn't feel much of anything. Not a worry - not a care. The fact they're collecting their liquid waste in a cup also doesn't bother him. His human, he learned, is ... _weird_.

 

He's not even alarmed when they place the cup next to him, even though the strong scent of it fills his skul. A smell of something both earthy and 'sharp', stings his nasal cavity, but he figured the liquid would be gulped down and away from his senses before long anyhow.

 

The smaller human liked to drink their own liquid waste, although in secret. He's sure it's because the bigger human would be furious if they found out about it. It seemed a bit unsanitary to him, too, to be honest ... Even **he** knew not to do anything with his waste, using the equivalent of a large bed pan to relieve himself in, but otherwise had the sense to avoid it. Although sometimes the humans were a bit reticent about cleaning it ...

 

"You've been a bad boy, haven't you, Bones?"

 

At that his attention snapped up to them.

 

They were looking at him intensely. _Oh no_. He knew what that look meant, and it almost always spelled trouble for him, but he had no idea what he had done to earn it.

 

"Even though I tell you to stay quiet, you still make sounds. You make Mama mad at me."

 

He fidgeted. _What was he supposed to do?_ Even though he always tried his best to not say a word, when they rough-housed with them he involuntarily vocalized. Either in shock, distress, or both.

 

Then they gave him a little grin.

 

"So now, **you're** going to get punished."

 

As they went to pick him up, he stiffened. _Are they going to throw him?_ They've done so before. They've always made sure he hit something soft though. But they're in the bathroom right now, aren't they? It's all hard walls and tile. _Are they going to squeeze him?_ They've done that too. But they always stopped when they complained their fingers hurt. So what-

 

Suddenly his vision was filled to the brim with dark yellow. Liquid violently flooded his every orifice, suffocating him ... or at least it felt like it.

 

 **No**.

 

All sound was muted, but he found himself staring through a familiar glass. He could only see, not hear his human mouth some words at him. They were grinning and looking absolutely delighted.

 

He finally had the sense enough to surface, though he coughed heavily and tries his best to stay afloat in the sick, salty concoction. He looked at them with desperation ... but, a part of him already knew it was futile.

 

"H-human?"

 

They frowned at him.

 

"Tout. I thought I told you to stay quiet."

 

Then they stuck their finger inside the cup, and started to swirl the urine all around him. Like a whirlpool in a sea, he started to lose his buoyancy and he felt himself being sucked in. He panicked and tried to swim to the edge to hang on ... but ... magical bones weren't made to sustain against that kind of force.

 

It was only a few seconds before he found himself 'drowned' again - deeper and deeper into the glass. It didn't help that he wasn't a very large bitty either. He was both small for his type, and still quite young. It felt like the surface asw leagues above him, and he had no choice but to take big gasps of the horrid liquid. He wouldn't actually drown from this. That's physically impossible. But it **_felt_**  like it. And it **BURNED**. He choked on water before and that was bad enough, but the astringent nature of their waste is too much for him to deal with.

 

Finally, after struggling against the current for nearly a minute, he just ... gave up. He let them have their way with him. He always does. He let them swirl his limp body around the pool of piss. _At least they're having fun right? It's okay, **right?**_ It's not like he'll die from this, after all.

 

He gets into the same warped headspace he always does. And he just ... floats.

 

Before he loses consiousness though, darkness encrouching in, he hears the softest, happiest of giggles.

 

 _ **My beloved, precious human**_ ...

 

* * *

 

In the same universe, not so very far away, a Sansy bitty sat on a countertop staring intensely ahead of him. 

 

He had been adopted just a few hours ago, and brought to a luxurious looking house. He finally felt like things were looking up for him. Bitties as big and old as him aren't usually adoptable. Hell, he was probably gonna be 'sent out to pasture' in a few weeks if no one picked him up. But it seemed as though fate had decided to smile fortune upon him.

 

... or so he thought. He been sat on a marble counter-top in what looked like a bathroom, and currently this new human was ... smiling ... unnervingly, at him. What were they expecting from him?

 

"Who's a good little boy?"

 

Immediately he felt something is wrong. His eye sockets narrowed. _Maybe the human was confused?_  He wasn't a boy, he was an adult, and a rather **large** adult at that. Sure he only came up to about 2 feet, a little bit taller than a human baby, but, for a bitty, he was **humongous**.

 

They pouted at him.

 

"Aww ... is my little man feeling antsy?"

 

His indignation intensified. The people at the adoption center were shits to him all time, but they didn't treat him like a child. _Just what are they_ ... ?

 

"I bet it's those clothes. They look awfully tight. Babies always hate wearing anything, after all."

 

"N-no I-"

 

" **B a b i e s   d o n ' t   t a l k.** "

 

A dark shudder shot down his spine. Their whole aura just did a 180 and suddenly the killing intent was simply dripping off of them. _What the fuck?_

 

So he shut his mouth. Sheer self preservation.

 

Then they, once again, turned all smiles.

 

"Let's get you out of those things."

 

They're just not going to address what just happened.

 

_Okay ..._

 

He's uncomfortable with this. He's **incredibly** uncomfortable with this. A younger bitty might not of had any shame but he wasn't too keen on 'showing' off for anyone - not a bitty, and **especially** not a human. But ... he didn't think he had many other options.

 

So one by one his clothes were peeled off of him. _His jacket. His shirt ... His shorts. His slippers_. Finally he was even stripped of even his underwear, until he was fully bare-boned for them to see. He blushed an intense blue in shame and turned his head away. _This was awful._

 

The human was pleased by it though, apparently.

 

"Wonderful! That's so much better, I bet."

 

He kept his trap shut. Whatever they were planning to do, he just wished they'd hurry up and get on with it.

 

That's when he felt a warm pressure on his crotch and he squeaked and looked up aghast at them. _WHAT THE HELL?!_

 

"Mmm ... but you haven't gone to the bathroom since you've been here, I bet you need to go _real_  bad, huh?"

 

He flushed even deeper at their intrusive question. _**No.** No way in **hell.**_ Against his will his eco-organs were forming. They weren't wrong - he had mostly been ignoring the familiar pressure threatening to summon a bladder, but now that they're rubbing him, it's all he can do just to suppress it.

 

Of course they kept on rubbing, and he kept on squirming. Magical waste comes in two forms, like most creatures, and bitties were no different. And he felt both sets begin to form then, into magical bladder and magical large intestines, and both were currently filled. _This was awful. This was **horrible**._ He really _really_ had to go, and them rubbing him was not helping matters. Eliminating on them was **NOT** an option.

 

So he whined. He legitimately just whined, like a **child**. _Embarrassment be damned. Not talking be **damned!**_  This was bordering on the worse thing he had ever experienced in his life.

 

"Ooooh. You poor cupcake. Well, it's a good thing I brought that package earlier, so you'll have something to go in!"

 

His eyesockets widened in hope. _Did they get a Bitty potty?_ The doll house they gave him was larger than standard, more like an elaborate kid's play set, but, it didn't have any working plumbing, so he was beginning to become a bit concerned.

 

Despite their smile at him, his hopes were quickly dashed when he saw some strange white fabric in their hand. _No... no it **couldn't** be_.

 

"Now, just bear with me while I change you." They sang.

 

Suddenly his legs were pushed together and he being lifted up like he was baby bones. Any mortification he felt before was _pale_ in comparison to this.

 

Half of the cloth was laid underneath him, while they pulled the front half over his ilium.

 

It was only a second before they were clasping the two white folds together, and his pelvis was completely covered by it.

 

"There now! That's much better." They were positively beaming.

 

As he sat up, and looked at himself, his whole world paused for a moment ... but there was no mistake.

 

**He was wearing a diaper.**

 

He wouldn't of been surprised if his whole body had gone blue in embarrassment at this point.

 

The worse part of all, was he still had to go. Now even worse than before, and ...

 

They were still just beaming at him - like a deranged parent.

 

"Go on sweet heart ... I know you how badly you needed it." Then they were rubbing his pelvis again and he groaned in distress.

 

The fabric rubbed strangely on his bones, and their movements was eliciting a gut churning reaction. It was _dreadful_. It was the **worse**. He absolutely, 100% had to go, and ...

 

He felt a warm trickle escape him and he just broke.

 

"Yes! There you go sweet heart!"

 

Warm liquid waste magic began to fill the diaper, as blue tears filled up his sockets.

 

**No.**

 

He had no more control over anything his pelvic organs were doing; it was all going on automatic.

 

That initially trickle was all it took.

 

Even as he felt the pressure of his bladder relieved, the feel of the waste magic gathering between his bones and the fabric was cruel and unusual. He started to rattle from the stress.

 

**But it got worse.**

 

Because then he felt the first beginnings of solid magic start to come out and he just ... _couldn't_.

 

It made the most undignified and revolting sounds as it spurted from him into the diaper. It was **vile**. There was decent amount of stress gas bilted up, so he couldn't even go _silently_.

 

"Good! You're such a good boy. Keep it up darling."

 

They just sounded so loving and encouraging, and he just _lost it_. He started to cry. The humiliation was too much. He was an **adult**. He wasn't supposed to pee and shit against himself like a baby bones, and now he was crying like one. He hadn't cried in ages, but now he was wailing. Wailing and eliminating on himself. **Just like a baby.**

 

Instead of being repulsed however, the human seemed utterly delighted by it.

 

The diaper continued to be padded and stuffed with increasing waste magic. Then his stomach churned painful as a cramp hit him, the convulsions from his cries ended his evacuation off by the worse sort of burning liquid spurts. Magic that wasn't quite waste, but ended up being expelled just by the sheer desire of wanting it to be over.

 

Now he had both liquid and solid magic sloshing against his pelvis, and he howled in despair. **_There was no recovery from this._**

 

His absolutely only reprieve was when the evacuation finally stopped.

 

"Oh ... oh my poor boy. You just had to go so badly didn't you? "

 

They rubbed his chest soothingly with their palm, and it **burned** , because he wanted nothing to do with them, with anyone, at that moment ... but a part of him still _longed_ for the comfort. 

 

"Well, we can't have all that peepee and poopoo just sitting against you, can we?"

 

He knew that. He knew that but _still._

 

His shame increased ten fold when they skillfully unlatched the diaper, and the cold air hit his soaked bones. Then SMELL hit him. _God it smelled **rancid**._

 

"My my ... you really made a mess didn't you?"

 

All he could do was  _whimper_. Because what else was he supposed to do ... could do?

 

"Aww ... it's okay baby. We'll get you all nice and cleaned up!"

 

Which is precisely what they did. They wiped off much of the solid mess with the diaper itself, before throwing it away in a bin beside them.

 

All while he was still grieving the lose of his dignity and barely containing the sobs. Then he felt something moist and warm on his bones and he looked up sharply at them. _What?_

 

"Need to make sure my baby stays nice and healthy ..."

 

They had taken a warm baby-powder scented toilette to his bones, and were cleaning off the magical residue, and he fell even deeper into mortification.

 

They were just humming though, happily, and rubbing him softly with care.

 

He actually felt his bones begin to glow again, probably due the hypersensitivity of that whole 'event'. But ... god, **no**. _He **wasn't** a baby bones._  This reluctant, pleasurable glow was proof of it.

 

They stopped before his genitals actually formed though and all he could do was _thank fuck_ for small favors.

 

Once more his pelvis was bundled up in a large, clean, white diaper.

 

"There now! I bet that's so much better."

 

He turned to face them, the blue tears still lining his sockets. He was still in shock. _He was defeated._

 

Their face turned compassionate and 'loving'. They picked him up, held him to their chest and shoulder, and rubbed his back bones.

 

"Shhh ... shh ... it's okay baby. Everything is going to be all right. I promise."

 

Even as he dug his head into their neck to hide his face and struggled to contain another round of tears, he knew _it **absolutely was not going to be all right**_.

 

"You'll be the happiest baby boy here. I promise."

 

He knew, any chance at happiness ... was completely **obliterated**  ...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> I really wanted to humiliate and see a bitty fall into despair, so that's what I did. Hey, at least no one died ... right? That makes it okay ... right?? (It absolutely does not at all make it okay - not in any molecule of the word. But here it is anyhow. ^^)


	14. A Small PSA, in Fic Form

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Red gets an actual persona - sorta.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Skip this if you don't care to read what's basically an elaborate author's note, and my personal feelings about the people who write bitty abuse fics, and those who read them.** Chapter 15 will be up soon.

"You're a real shitty person, ya know that?"

 

I tipped my head back and stared at the Edgy sitting on the edge of the counter.

 

" _Oooh?_ ... How do you figure?"

 

"Tch. All you do is sit there and write all day about bitties being tortured and killed. It's fucking gross. You're fucking gross." He snarled at me toothily.

 

I looked away from him, staring idly at the ceiling as I scratched the back of my neck.

 

"I really fail to see how making fictional characters 'suffer' inherently makes **me** a bad person, but, please ..." My eyes swiveled back lazily to him. "Enlighten me."

 

He tilted his head at me, his face screwed up like I just told him the moon was made of cheese or some shit.

 

"Do you _ **not**_ see the problem with that? Really?? What kind of sick fucked up person writes about killing other people. Real living things. Seriously?"

 

"G.R.R. Martin. Stephen King. J.K.Rowling ... I could go on ..."

 

"W-what ... what the fuck are you talking about?"

 

" **They kill people.** "

 

He stared at me gobsmacked.

 

I looked at him like he was an idiot. Which he was - but I loved him anyways.

 

"The only reason _you're_ pissed off is because they're just like you, right? Small. Innocent. You want to protect 'em. All you read are those shitty ass Bitty Fluff fics, or Bitty Smut, or Bitty Rescue from Abuse. Where are all the violent fics? The ones where you get to experience the horror of being the murderer? You want to love 'em. That's fine. You want to be their hero. I'm all for it. You want to fuck 'em? Sure, all parties are consenting. Then suddenly I walk in, slap down some papers filled with Bitty Abuse - pure, unadulterated violence. **That's** where the line is crossed??"

 

"None of that other shit is illegal!!" He hissed at me, only visible eyelight now glowing at me violently red.

 

"So's fucking pedophilia, but somehow that's still all well and good to write about on this site." I hissed. "Can I even begin to count the amount of crimes against humanity and monsters described in some fiction? **Really?** "

 

He stammered before spitting out, "You're a shitty fucked up person!! Why the fuck are you even arguing this?!? **G o   t o   h e l l  ! !** " He spat before attempting to jump off the counter.

 

I caught him before he landed.

 

He looked up at me with absolute horror.

 

"The _**fuck!?**_ "

 

The look on my face was flat though. Emotions weren't necessary here.

 

The silence dragged on and little red beads of sweat nervously adorned his skull.

 

"W... what?! Spit it out!!" He growled. "If you're gonna yell at me, yell at me! If you're gonna hurt me, go ahead and prove me fucking right!!" Even as he said that his eye light was flickering erratically.

 

Edgy had a problem with letting his mouth fly without thinking about it first. As well as putting up a big front when he was genuinely terrified.

 

I sighed.

 

"No."

 

He tensed and then looked up at me confused.

 

"... wha?"

 

"Why do you think I'm going to hurt you?"

 

He looked aghast at me and pointed a phalange disbelieving at the computer. A computer full of all manner of sin.

 

In that computer there was also a not insignificant amount of cute shit that would make most people teeth rot - enough smut to please even the horniest pervert - and some of the most adorable images and videos Bitties being loved and being cute. Really, the amount of violence on the computer was vastly outnumbered by everything else, and yet ...

 

"Just because authors write it doesn't mean they want to do it, dumbass."

 

He stiffened again and looked torn between being pissed at me, and continuing fearing for his life.

 

"When the fuck have I ever given any inclination that I was going to hurt you?" I frowned.

 

More beads of sweat nervously doted his skull, but he didn't, **couldn't** give me a response.

 

"Seriously? I've owned you for years now. Do you know how much of my stuff you've fucked up? Do you realized how precarious of a situation you put me in some days? Yet still I fed you. Yet still I cloth you. Yes. You and I have gotten into arguments, but do you know what we call people who limit free speech?"

 

"Wha-

 

" **Fucking assholes.** That's we god damn call them." I grimace at him and then loosen my grip on him. My head drops. "... I was afraid of this, you know. The whole fucking time I was _**terrified**_ , do you realize that?"

 

"Red ... ?"

 

With him loosened, he could escape at anytime he wanted. Yet, he was still holding onto my thumb. Still sitting on my palm.

 

"I would never in my wildest dreams genuinely hurt a bitty. It makes me sick to my stomach to think about. I **hate** hurting others. You have _no_ idea..." I bit my lip. "But sometimes people are assholes to me. Sometimes I get treated like dirt, treated as though I don't matter - treated like I'm less than a human being. And you know what these fics give? They give me an **outlet**. I can vent some of my frustration at things that don't exist. Fictional manifestations of some of the most innocent creatures in the world, and it's horrifying. **That's the whole point**. The point isn't to make you think killing bitties is all right. It isn't to convince you that some people or things aren't worth protecting. I just ..." I sighed and rubbed my forehead with my free hand.

 

"Maybe this is all a really shitty argument for defending myself," I stared off at a corner of the room. "It just seems really hypocritical other people can write whatever the fuck they want and they don't get chewed out - but suddenly I write what I want, and there's an issue with it. No body wants to get raped. No one **wants** to have a bad time. No one genuinely want to be in a position where they have to fight for anyone's life. There's **_so_** many things written that nobody wants to do - would ever do. So why do they write it then?" I turned to face Edgy again, a frown pulling at my face. " **Why?** "

 

At this, Edgy could not give an answer. Though his concern for me was showing on his expressive features.

 

" ... Red ... I ..." He just didn't know how to respond.

 

I sighed. "I've had this discussion with several people you know. Some people say it's therapeutic - people who are kind, and wonderful. A lot of people comment it makes them uncomfortable, but they can't stop reading it. That's how I've felt about a lot of fan fictions too. Some real fucked up shit." I frowned. "But when I've personally disagreed with it, I never took it out on the author. I never bad mouthed them or put down some passive-aggressive shit hinting I do this shit in real life. Do people who write rape fics rape people, in real life? Do people who write murder fics murder others, in real life?"

 

At that Edgy looked away. He didn't, couldn't give me a response.

 

" **No.** The answer is no, they don't. Because that would be fucked up. And I suppose there's a small fraction of people who write this stuff that actually do enjoy those 'activites', but the number is probably so fucking small it's not even worth mentioning. Enjoying violent fics does not make you a violent person, anymore than playing violent video games or watching violent movies. **That's it.** " Finally my hands and arms are too tired, and I have to put Edgy back on the countertop.

 

"I'm sorry that's what my brain is filled with these days. Some people's are filled with cotton candy fluff. Some are filled with smut. Mine are filled with both of those and murder too, apparently."

 

There was a somewhat long pause before, Edgy finally said, "Red ... I ..."

 

I sighed in acceptance. "It's fine." I can't even look at him right now. I feel another depressive episode falling over me now that I've vented my anger, and frankly I just ... **can't** , right now. Can't anything. All I want to do is curl up on my couch and die a little. That would make people happy right? That would please them, _right_?

 

Then I felt a soft presence on my shoulder, and recognize it for what it is. A cute mouthy bitty on my shoulder.

 

" ... What?" I'm not angry anymore, but my tone is flat. 

 

He murmured something so soft it was hard to catch it.

 

"What??"

 

"I said I'm sorry." I could feel his short little arms wrapped around my neck, or at least as wrapped as they ever would be. "I know you wouldn't do that ... I just ..."

 

I knew. When people are hurt they lash out. Even if it's a self-inflicted a wound - an ignored warning, they'll still blame anybody but themselves. I hurt others sometimes when I felt hurt, irregardless if that was their intention or not. Though I had tried to stem that over the years, it still cropped up. It was human nature. While I never threw any punches, or threatened to beat anyone up, I had gotten very good at using my 'words'. Verbal evisceration was almost worse - if only because it left a wound no one else could see. But it was still a wound. It still hurt. **Words are powerful**. My writing was proof of that. The ability to make people cry with joy, or fume with rage ... it's not insignificant.

 

Not everybody who read my stuff made me feel bad about it. Some saw the darkness in my heart, and they accepted me regardless. Then there's people who read my stuff as a challenge. They think, "How bad can it be?", and then when they get burned ... well ... **I'm** the one who wrote it, right? It's _**my** _ fault, _right_? I had been so considerate. I tagged everything in my fics, and even gave a several paragraph warning at the beginning. At what point was I going to have to stop holding other people's hands. How long could I go on being gentle, before I snapped? Either in misery or anger.

 

I decided neither.

 

I felt Edgy rest his head against my neck. "... Red ... you're fine, ya?"

 

A small smile quirked up the side of my mouth - perhaps a little bit forced, but, well, if no one else was here to take care of me, I'd have to do it on my own. "Yeah. ... yeah, I will be. ... Let's go cuddle on the couch for a little bit, yeah?"

 

I couldn't see his face, but, "Yeah ... yeah Sweetheart, that sounds good ..." I could hear his relief, and imagine a small smile.

 

And, for now, that was enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Red officially has an Edgy now. Not that either of them will actually pop up much in the future, if at all.
> 
> I posted this on strong encouragement. Thanks guys. <3


	15. Cash Honey II: Mama has Dessert

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cash's owner reminiscences about her off-shot bitty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: Death

You were lounging in bed after your decadent meal, humming oh so softly, and idly picked bits of bitty out of your teeth. You let loose a hysterical giggle come on at your mental pun. Really, the day couldn't of ended any better. You'd finally finished off some of your most important scientific research, and finished it off by finishing off your trash can of a bitty.

 

Just as you're about to start to giggling at yet another pun, you felt your stomach rumble.  _Huh. Strange._ You shouldn't still be hungry after that. The bitty didn't have much 'meat' on him, sure, but, the vegetables after should of filled you up plenty. That's when your stomach churned again, and it felt as though a hot spike was piercing through and _oh dear, that was not good. That was not good **at all.**_

 

You slid your way off of bed and hissed at the unexpected pain. _God damnit. Was Cash going to give you so much grief, even AFTER his demise?_ You rubbed your stomach placatingly, hoping to calm it. It seemed to work ... for a moment. Then it felt like another lance through your belly and _oh fuck, that's not good._

 

You rushed to the bathroom and proceeded to 'pray to the porcelain throne', on your knees like a good little heathen.

 

 _One upchucked bitty would be enough._ You thought rationally. You'd already gotten all the satisfaction you needed out of him. Now he needed to _**get the fuck out.**_

 

Cash wasn't having it ... at least, what was left of him.

 

Even as you stuck your fingers down your throat to hasten the regurgitation process, the contents of your belly remained. Your gut clenched in agony, but, puking would **not** happen, as though the residual magic had closed your stomach's sphincter up.

 

All you could do was furrow your brow and dry heave, while trying to control the flaying pain running rampant through your body.

 

Needless to say, it wasn't working.

 

 _Maybe you shouldn't of let your gluttony get the best of you_ , you reason to yourself. _Maybe you should of simply tried a small slice of the bitty, instead going for the full monty._ That's when you felt your heart rate skyrocket and ...  _ **Shit.**_ You were suddenly extremely concerned about the repercussions of under cooking 'Cash'. It had been wonderful to see the lazy bitty suffer as much as possible before his demise. Just a small recompense make up for those months of ruining your belongings and slutting around when he thought you weren't looking ... but ...

 

Magical Bitty meat ...

 

Undercooked. 

 

_In your belly._

 

_**Being dissolved.** _

 

_**Traveling into your blood stream.** _ __

 

_ ~~**F u c k .** ~~ _

 

You hit yourself in the abdomen as hard as you could, trying your best to vomit up any lingering piece of shit hookers. By some miracle you finally felt bile burning at the back of your throat, and a not insignificant amount of food traveled the opposite way it had went in. Unfortunately for you, it was mostly green. _Just the veggies_. _Oh that is **not** good._

 

You scramble off the bathroom floor, despite the searing paining running through you, and rush towards your ghetto ass lab. _You had to have **SOMETHING**   in there to fix this._

 

Calling your boss, a scientist above you, but almost certainly with the knowledge to stop this, was NOT an option. The man was as sadistic as you, but in completely different way. You knew if he learned about this you'd soon find your skull bashed in with the nearest blunt instrument. ... Which would really be too bad ... because it's hard to love a man when you've pretty much lost all your brain functions.

 

That's why, against better reason, you were messily digging through your cabinets, even as your heart throbbed, your mouth went dry and your skin turned clammy. _This was **not** good._

 

You'd been storing up as many different medications as possible ... or at least what you could sneak from the lab without drawing attention. You had a menagerie of lovely solutions and compounds, from pain medications, to antibiotics, to 'sexy-time' drugs. What you needed right now though was the strongest fucking antibiotic in the book, and possible a bezoar stone. You knew you didn't have at least one of those.

 

Food poisoning wasn't that unusual, but this was a specific sort of case ... _a case of no one had's the cockamamie idea to eat a fucking bitty before you beautiful sadistic bitch._ God help you if you couldn't find **something.**

 

Then, finally, you felt like you could throw up. _Miraculous_. Unfortunately you were no where near the bathroom, so you ended up spilling your guts onto the linoleum floor, and irrationally mourned your lab sterility. To top it off, the color of the liquid had morphed from a veggie green to a bright red.

 

_Did it suddenly just get cold? Or is it that your temperature is going up? **Shit.**_

 

You wipe your mouth clean enough to go looking through your cabinets and you find it. **YES.** A Fluoroquinolone. This shit's strong enough to treat anthrax. Lucky for you it also comes in liquid form, and you are suddenly pouring that thing down your gullet. Your stomach rebels at the suddenly inflex of new fluids, but you hold your thumb down and suppress the fuck out of your gag reflex.

 

Despite the pulsating pain in your abdomen, you settle for lightly panting and staring at the ceiling. You idly distract yourself by scanning it's rough texture, hoping the antibiotic will kick in sooner rather than later.

 

**It doesn't.**

 

The popcorn-like patterns suddenly go double and _Oh fuck fuck **f u c k.**_

 

With a sense of doom and death creeping up on you, you **had** to call him, regardless of the possibility of having your head caved in or not.

 

So that's what you did.

 

Or, at least, you tried to.

 

As you tried to pull your cellphone out of your pocket, your limbs suddenly went numb and your last chance fell to the ground with a violent crack and a short sizzle.  **Broken.** Much like you as you went crashing on the ground moments later, slicing your cheek and part of your head as you did, and landing roughly on the ground. Even as your ability to move was torn away, it felt as though fire was running through your veins, and you swore you could of heard Cash cackling, even though you knew the fucker was long since dead.

 

Then you felt another sharp pierce in your stomach again, and you were retching again. Unfortunately this time it more pooled around your lips and face, having no where else to go, and it burned as fiercely as your blood. Your eyes watered, both from the astringent nature of the vomit and from something else.

 

_No._

 

**_No this isn't fair._ **

 

You had done everything you can to help this but ... somehow **karmic justice** was blazing through your fucking veins.

 

**_Fucking off-shot Sans bitties and their fucked up magic._ **

 

You felt your body shudder and you recognized it was for what it was **.** The antibiotic hadn't worked quick enough. Emptying your stomach was pointless. Calling the only person who could of helped was no longer an option, though even he couldn't of gotten their fast enough to help probably. As you felt the cold and final embrace of death, all you could think was ...

 

_**You're so fucking mad you didn't get to record any of this.** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Occasionally, just occasionally, I do write things that can be considered 'Just'. If only because Cash _really_ hadn't done enough damage to be cooked and eaten alive, even if it was still wonderfully horrifying to read. Don't get used to it. :)
> 
> This also marks the end of all my previous written but unposted chapters - it's a mystery to both you and I what lays ahead.
> 
> Fun fact: Holding your thumb down in your fist will genuinely suppress most people's gag reflex, and I could not even begin to tell you why. The body is a strange and wonderful thing.


	16. A Favor IX: Breach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans rejoins his brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before I knew it, it had been a month since I updated 'Justice'. Whoops. 
> 
> No chapter warnings for this one, though it's probably going too far to call it nice.
> 
> Enjoy~

While the articles online had explained how to deal with the heat, you'd read less about what happens _after_ a bond cements. Well ... you supposed the important thing now was the heat was over, and you didn't need to worry about the Sansy bitty jumping what was basically his brother, though you shivered (confusingly) at the thought. You had carried Papyrus all the way back to your room, and the cage, but ...

 

"Noooo ..." The Papyrus bitty clung onto your finger for dear life. 

 

You frowned. "You need to let go. I am not babysitting you any longer that I already have."

 

**"I DON'T WANT YOU TO LEAVE!!"**

 

You'd never heard his voice hit that high of pitch before, and your ears were none too thankful.  **" T O O   G O D   D A M N   B A D. "** You shook him off and into the cage.

 

No matter what, his bitty strength wasn't enough to hold on, and he bounced onto the soft bedding of the cage. Though you had closed the door immediately, he was already shoving his hands through the bars and reaching towards you like an addict with a drug problem ... and you were the drug of choice.

 

You shivered, bewilderingly, again, but you _couldn't_ deal with this. No, you **wouldn't** deal with this.

 

His whines had reached an apex, a similar pitch you thought you had  **already** ended.

 

You had only done all of that to stop it, but if he was going to continue on DESPITE that ... " **Quit that racket**." You hissed darkly.

 

He trembled and though his whimpers died down, they didn't completely end.

 

"I absolutely **refuse** to have you begging for my attention 24/7. You and I may of bonded, but that doesn't mean I'm going to be toting you around all the time. As far as I'm concerned, **nothing** has changed. And if you don't get your emotions under control ... " You trailed off for a moment. "It's your **brother** who's going to be paying for it." 

 

At the threat to his sibling, his whines finally ceased, and you quietly sighed in relief.  There was nothing to be done about it. He was almost certainly in pain from the separation, but the risk of something happening to his brother was too great to ignore.

 

" **Good.** "

 

He shuddered perturbingly at the praise and curled in on himself, tears lining his sockets.

 

Even if his messed up his clothes, and the freshly cleaned cage, you didn't care. Tears were the _least_ of your concerns.

 

You frowned and look at the door. You were going to have to take care of his brother next. You still had no idea what to do with him, either ... and you don't know how he was going to react after everything that had happened.

 

...  _Oh well. Time to find out._

 

 

* * *

 

 

You stepped out of your bedroom, and made your way to the kitchen ... which was oddly quiet. Your eyes naturally scanned around the kitchen, but nothing seemed amiss. The cutting board was still present over the sink.

 

You walked over to the countertop, and slowly removed the board, shedding light into the metallic 'container'.

 

Sans was still curled up in the corner. His eyelights moved up towards you, and though you thought he may of been frowning a little ... he made no movement.

 

It was ... _weird._ You arched a brow.  "Well, I can't say I dislike this version of you. If you were like this all the time, you might even be ... dare I say it ... tolerable." You gave a mirthless chuckle.

 

He still said nothing. ... it was a little disquieting, honestly.

 

You held out your hand for him.

 

He walked on top of it without a sound.

 

 _Huh._ You lifted him up, but besides holding onto your finger, he was motionless inside your palm. You wondered just how motionless he was going to be when he got back to your room, considering Papyrus' state. _Well, time to find out._

 

As you enter the bedroom though, everything is ... still. Once again, it's what you wanted, but, it's still a bit odd considering the usual buzz.

 

When you reached the cage, Papyrus was no where in sight. Well ... almost. You could seem him through the opaque purple of his plastic house, clearing nesting in it. He knew very well if you wanted to get at him you need only lift it, so to see him take any sort of refuge there was a bit odd.

 

Sans focus was completely on the cage, and just as soon as you unlatched the cage, he was gone, crawling into the small house, to assess his brother.

 

"bro ...?"

 

With all this done, you decided you could finally take care of yourself. A nice hot both, and a filling meal ... _well, mostly filling_ ... called for you. 

 

**You left the brothers alone.**

 

* * *

 

Sans placed his hands on his brothers shoulders. "bro ...? are you okay?"

 

Papyrus clenched his teeth. That was a hard thing to answer. He's pretty sure he hasn't really been okay since he and his brother arrived here, but now there was this strange ... pulling ... longing ... sensation, towards ... _her_ , he couldn't explain. He almost felt out of his body, and moving on it's own, when near them. He **loved** her. But it also felt _**wrong**_. 

 

With a lack of response, Sans rubbed his brother's shoulders. "did she hurt you bro? she said she didn't but ... _god_." His brow bone furrowed. "i could hear the sounds you were making. you sounded like you were in absolute agony."

 

Papyrus blushed at the memory. " **No!** No, she didn't hurt me." He finally looked up at his brother, and gave him what he hoped was a convincing smile. 

 

Sans wasn't buying it of course. His eye sockets narrowed, and then he realized something, and his expression turned dark. "you don't have to lie to me paps. whatever she said she'd do to me, i can take it. i'm not afraid of that sick, fleshy hum-"

 

" **Don't!** " Papyrus panicked and placed his hands over his brother's mouth. " _Don't_ talk about her, like that ..."

 

The look of betrayal on his brothers' face was cutting, and when he let go of his mouth, all Sans could mutter was, "what ...?"

 

"Please ... please don't talk about her like that ..." Papyrus couldn't stand to look at his brother anymore, and stared down at his legs. He knew his face was burning orange with magic. The feelings from earlier today still lingered ... though lessened. 

 

Sans was shocked momentarily speechless. 

 

"She ... she really didn't hurt me brother. She helped." Papyrus looks up at his brother and tried to give him another convincing smile.

 

To say Sans was confused was an understatement. "help ..." It's not that he thought his brother was a liar, but, " ... _how?_ " He sat down in front of his brother, waiting for an explanation.

 

Papyrus' cheek bones flushed a deeper orange and he had to look away again. He fidgeted with his phalanges. What had come over him was ... _incredibly_ embarrassing. Humiliating ... far more than having his master watch him ... excrete. She had looked so **disgusted** with him during the whole thing ... and it was made worse because as much as he wanted to stop, he simply **couldn't**. As if he were possessed. And as whatever had possessed him reached an apex, he felt something **click**. He felt **whole** , and **_it made no sense_**. 

 

"bro ..."

 

 ** _Shit._** Then Papyrus scolded himself for cursing, even if it was only in his head. "I ... I wasn't feeling well? And she helped me to feel better?" The fact he sounded so uncertain probably didn't help.

 

Upon hearing Papyrus really hadn't been okay, Sans leaned in close to his brother, as though looking for any sign of previous injury. "unwell? you were sick? how were yo-" He halted. His eyelights disappeared from his sockets.  _what. what was - that scent?_ It was slight ... and had Sans not been nearly up in Papyrus' face he wouldn't of picked up on it, but ...

 

"Brother!" Papyrus tried to push Sans away, feeling incredibly disconcerted by his sudden proximity. It's true they always huddled together when they weren't separated by 'her', and shared pretty much everything with each other, but ... this was different. This _felt_ different.

 

Sans only confirmed Papyrus' suspicions when he growled and practically pushed his brother down in an attempt to pinpoint the scent. Despite his brother's squawk of protest, Sans took a large, embarrassing sniff of him. _where was it coming from? his neck? no ..._ he sniffed there, and while it was mild, it wasn't correct. And then sniffed lower. And _lower_. Until he reached an area that neither of them had any particular interest in, beyond when they had to take care of their 'needs'. It was sweet ... and it was heady, and he felt something pulse in his chest and - pulse in his bones,

 

Then Papyrus finally worked up the courage and pushed his brother off, scrambling away from him and out of the plastic house. He had **never** seen his brother behave this way, and it scared the living daylights out of him. It's true he wasn't anymore safe outside the house, but, what other option did he have?

 

After Paps rushed away, Sans came to his senses. His eyelights reappeared and _... what the fuck was I just doing?_ He shook his head and turned around, seeing his brother a distance away and shaking slightly. His heart dropped. _fuck. shit. what did I do?_ The pulse from before, the overwhelming need ... it was shot dead by the fear in his brother's eyes. _what the **hell** did I do?_ He slowly exited the plastic house, and felt a lance pierce through his soul when Papyrus visibly flinched at his approach. _god **damnit**_ ...

 

Both of the brothers were at an impasse. While Papyrus stood his ground on the opposite end of the cage, Sans didn't move from the entrance to their nest. 

 

"What ... What were you doing?" Papyrus croaked at his brother, a distance away.

 

Truthfully - Sans had no idea. Even if him and Paps were close, to push his brother down like that and stay on top of him, against his will, was ... he felt his soul shrink a little at the thought. "i'm ... uh ... not really sure."

 

"Not sure?!" Papyrus looked incredulous. "How can you be ... " Then he trailed off - because, to be completely honest, the past several hours had been ... he too had been doing some strange things. So the fact his brother was also now doing them was ... _can I really be mad? Maybe it's related?_ His bone brows furrowed in thought, _but ... in that case_ , _what am I supposed to do now?_

 

"i ... uh ... think whatever it was, passed though." Sans offered sheepishly.

 

Even though Papyrus looks a little bit more understanding, he still seemed ... wary.

 

"i'm ... i'm sorry, bro ... i shouldn't of done that." He looks off to the side and rubs his arm bone self-consciously. His actions reminded him far too much of the way their owner handled him, and if he should start emulating her then ... he felt his soul shrink again at the vile possibility. 

 

As if he could sense Sans' distress, and repentance, Papyrus' defenses dropped a little. He had no idea what was going on ... either with him, or his brother ... They had always depended on each other ... **_but now you have her_**. Papyrus stiffened. Why did he think that? ** _She loves you ... and she'll always be with you ..._**. He shook his head violently to quiet the errant and unwelcomed thoughts. While his feelings towards her had certainly ... deepened, these other thoughts were ... strange. And unproven. _She'd never expressed anything of the sort. In fact ... quite the opposite._ He refused to think about it any longer though, so he strode towards his brother.

 

Sans' eye sockets widened and he stiffened at his brother's approach. He didn't dare move, less he scare him off again.

 

"You ... you and I ... have each other, so ... it will be okay. ... I forgive you, brother." He smiled.

 

 _like an angel. a saint among bitties_. Even among their siblings, no one had been as loving and kind as him. Sans knew, _in no way do I deserve him_.  Sans managed a small smile, but said sincerely. "... thanks bro."

 

As Papyrus wrapped his arms around his brother in a hug, Sans went taut in anticipation for the urge to return ... but, it didn't.

 

He didn't know what it was ... and he's pretty sure he didn't want to know. Sans made a vow to himself, right then and there. In absolutely **no** circumstance, would he hurt his brother. **Ever.**

 

In his head, despite his muddled feelings, Papyrus made a similar vow.

 

* * *

 

 

A room away, their owner sat in a scalding tub, trying her best to shut down her brain. She knew something of the world the brothers hadn't yet learned. From the deep lines that littered her skin, to sickly smiles of 'friends' and 'family' -  **Vows were made to be broken.**

 

And the brothers had only seen the tip of the iceberg of the **trash** that was _ **their**_ world. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt like I was banging my head against a wall to get this chapter out of my skull. Right up until I started talking from the brothers' PoV I was bored as fuck. All of my writing has been like this lately. My creative muse has all but been murdered by my neutral state of existence. Normally I'm all emo, but the past few months have seen me been sorta content, and it's killing my angst drive. Well ... I hope you all found watching the brothers interact as interesting as I did. Things are probably only going to get worse. Will we ever see outside Reader's house? Find out next time on Dragon Ba- er, 'Justice'.~


	17. Rehabilitation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you mean it's been over a month? I'm pretty sure it was the end of may just last week!! ... oh, the summer solstice already hit? .... well, shitty tits. 
> 
> I have no excuse, I never do. My brain's just been dead.
> 
> It's just 1100 words, but, hey, it's better than nothing, right?
> 
> >.>
> 
> CW: Dismemberment

In the dead of night, inside a remote building, there was a small, yet pristine looking room. You stood in the middle of it, leaning over a small table.

 

" ... distal phalanx ... " You murmured softly, in concentration. 

 

The sound of slight rattling could be heard.

 

" ... middle phalanx ..." You ran your finger across a soft, yet gritty white surface. " ... but ... how it stays together ..." You gently dragged a fingernail across, until it caught between the joint.

 

A slight muffle could be heard, but nothing more.

 

You licked your lips, and tilted your head to get a good look at the object you were examining. _Really ... it's fascinating_. The 'procedurally generated' craftsmanship was gorgeous to your eyes. You nail pulled slightly where it caught. It caused a spark of ... something. _A new reaction._ You eye lit up at the potential.

 

_Mmmph!_

 

Then your bright expression immediately dropped. You flicked your eyes up to the offending object. "I've already taken away your pain, a mercy on my part ... but, unless you want me to take away your voice too, **you had better stop using it.** "

 

The only response you received was silence.

 

 **_Good._  **You turned your eyes back to your 'prize'. The bones were tiny, so it shouldn't be too difficult. You pulled again. _In theory._ You frowned. You pulled a little harder, and magic sparked. You pulled again and- " **FUCK!** " You jerked your now red and stinging finger away, nursing it with your lips.

 

 _Nails wouldn't be strong enough for this ... not finger nails anyways._ You pouted, but, never daunted, you picked up a small chisel from beside a nearby metal pan. You tested it's sharpness against the back of your hand, and it left a thin red line with little effort. _Perfect._

 

You looked down at the perfect looking 'bones', separated merely by a gentle glow, as though they were hovering in space. If that space was a lava lamp. You had been looking forward to pulling them apart yourself ... but ... well, this was a learning process. You pinched your free (and uninjured) hand's thumb and forefinger together in thought. 'Quality of life' improvements could be made - later. You had nearly settled the gleaming metal, between the beckoning glow, when-

 

_Mmmmmmpf!!_

 

To be fair, you couldn't exactly blame the subject's reaction. It seemed almost reasonable - for a creature that mimicked life so well. _However_... it was interfering with your concentration, and you had wanted to enjoy this process - not have it soured by distractions. You shot them a dark look. "What. Did. I. Say?"

 

The look on their face ... it was almost enough to wash your ill-tempered mood away ... almost. Tears had threatened to prick at bitty's sockets. Of course they wouldn't really feel what you were about to do ... well, no, that wasn't exactly accurate. Their sense of touch was still firmly in place, after all, it was only the pain pathways that were turned off. Some of your earlier experiments had led to that breakthrough.

 

As you rested the chisel inbetween it's joints, the small autonomic being inhaled sharply.

 

It wasn't alive, of course, not really. You supposed some might think you were being cruel, but you would disagree. After all, this little shit had made a mess out of it's owner's face, leaving it little more than shredded meat. Normally in such extreme cases, you'd suspect the owner of provocation ... but you'd checked that boy's level. It was a shining, white, level 1. A shining beacon of innocence. As for the "bitty" - well, the killing intent practically radiated off of him.

 

You didn't know the circumstances that led up to such ugliness. Perhaps it was a genetic anomaly. You'd run into your fair share of those before; bitties rabid without rabies. But ... no. Rabid bitties don't cry. Rabid bitties aren't capable of processing exactly it what you were about to do to it. Rabid bitties don't realize **they fucked up**.

 

The tiny 'skeleton' shuddered, as is reading your thoughts, but made no sound.

 

No - it was very likely this bitty was abused before it landed with it's 'current' owner. In what way, you couldn't say, but it didn't matter. You would give it one more chance, and then you would have to take extreme measures. The wires going into his pseudo-soul just needed to be triggered just right, then he wouldn't be able to speak. Forever, if you so wished it. Another one of your breakthroughs ... ones that your ears thanked you for.

 

Finally you just got sick of waiting and shoved the chivel down hard, breaking one of his tiny phalanges off with a soft "pop!". You shivered and sighed, a smile lighting your face in satisfaction. _Nearly as a good as popping bubble wrap._

 

The bitty had gone still. He couldn't feel the pain of losing a small part of his finger, but, he could still _feel_ it ... or, the _absence_ of it. His eyelights had disappeared in momentary shock, trying to process it, though they came back only 3 seconds later. The tears leaking down his face was his only response. What was left of the tip of his finger? Well, it was _nothing_. It was dust.

 

Actually that fact made you pout. _Jeez._  You had hoped the small pseudo bone would of stayed together a little bit longer than that. You bit at your forefinger joint, somewhat ironically so. _How to fix this_ \- you wondered. There wasn't enough time. The lesson wasn't going to get through if you had to stop and work out a complete preservation method. You'd just have to write the rest of the finger off as a lost. It's not like he didn't have nine more of them.

 

Another muffled noise, probably a barely constrained sob.

 

 _Yep. Okay._ You looked up at him, with a sense of _really?_  He knew the consequences, yet still. You gave him no more warning. You reached over and flicked a switch on a metal panel, where the wires from his pseduo- soul connected.

 

He certainly felt something was wrong, but as he opened his mouth in reaction, no noise in came out. His eyelights shrunk.

 

_**Finally.** Blissful **fucking** silence._

 

He was opening his mouth wide, as if trying to scream, clearly ignoring your instructions, not that it made any difference. He began to struggle in his panic, but he was already restrained, so it's not like he wasn't going anywhere.

 

Some might think it may of been more humane to knock him out before doing this. They might say, "It's an experiment after all! Why do you have to be cruel?!" You tsked. You'd done that before. The magic they expressed when you put them out was nothing more than a dull hum, and there was little data to be gathered from it. But now? It was like watching fire works. The magic around his joints were nearly 'alive'. Plus, you still had a point to make. It's not like these experiments were simply for your own scientific curiosity, after all.

 

"I'm going to make this clear ... just in case you forgot ..." You pulled his finger straight once more, and placed the chisel in between his middle phalanx and proximal phalanx.

 

"I don't care what happened to you before you met that human boy ..." You sunk it through, with a proceeding _Pop!_ Three seconds, and then dust.

 

"If you care about about remaining "whole", you **will** be sure to behave from this point forward." You placed the chisel between his proximal phalanx and middle metacarpal.

 

"Because, buddy, you only have so many fingers ..." _Pop!_   Three seconds. Dust. "... but I can keep doing this **as long** as it takes."

 

You took the chisel away, and admired your handiwork. Though the bitty ....... the bitty was, to put it lightly, freaking the fuck out.  You tapped the flat the of chisel against his rib cages, making his bones clack and rattle. " ... and sooner or later, you're going to run out of fingers."

 

You couldn't help your slight open mouthed grin. Afterall ... who said you couldn't mix work with pleasure? Knowledge and higher learning was your intention, but, bitty 'rehabilitation' was your m.o.


	18. Rehabilitation II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A pair of owners comes to you with a particular problem that no one else can solve, or more to the point, will solve. How do you tame a pure bite?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on blehbybleh's Pure Bite bitty - and a particular conversation I had with Doc, who seemed surprised at my cruelty levels. I don't mind giving a reminder. :)
> 
> CW: Emotional Manipulation, Abandonment, Cruelty, Bitty Death

You cradled a big warm bundle in your arms. You were comfortably lounged on a soft surface, yet oddly you trembled. Oh - no. That wasn't you. It was quiet sobbing of the big fleshy bitty in your arms.

 

You gave him a gentle coo, that parents seemed to know by instinct, gently rocking him back and forth, despite that he was almost as big as you. "There there ... everything will be all right."

 

The large bitty shuddered again, curling further into the fetal position. He let out a rush of air, that you knew meant he wanted to say something, but it was clear in his emotional state he simply couldn't get the words out.

 

You softly traced your fingers against his shivering arm, a pleasant feeling for most animals, humans, and bitties. This process was always exhausting, and you knew you'd be stuck here for a few hours, at least.

 

"maw- ..."

 

You lifted your eyes in surprise. He was actually trying to speak? _... Wow ..._ You were impressed. You tilted your head in curiousity.

 

"Yes, darling?"

 

He tried to say something again, but this time all that came out was a shredded rasp.

 

You gave him a gentle smile he couldn't see, rubbed his arm a bit more firmly ... but not too much. _Patience was key_ , afterall.

 

After a few more false starts, you finally heard, "hurts ... maw ..."

 

You felt a wet splash of ... something on your arm. You weren't deterred. "I know baby ..." You pulled him close, as close as humanly possibly. "But you just have to bear with it, for just a little longer ..."

 

He stuffed his head into your shirt, and a reverberation against your chest meant he said something - but you couldn't possibly hear him.

 

You gave him another patient, unseen smile. "Sweetheart ... I can't hear you."

 

He paused for a few seconds, and then turned his head away, enough that his mouth was free ... but even then, his head was angled down, and his words were just a mumble.

 

Your smile fell, just a fraction, and with it your voice. "Sweety ... look up at me when you speak, please."

 

At that he gave a longer pause. Reticent. He clearly didn't want to look at you.

 

You were no longer smiling, and your eyes were narrowed. You didn't raise your voice, but you said, firmly, yet patiently, "Pure ... Look at me."

 

The tone of your voice must of finally hit him, and he shuddered in response. He slowly, reluctantly tilted his head up at you, and you could finally get a good look at his face. His sockets were filled with big bubbling tears, staining his pure white bones. Well ... tears, and also ...

 

You smiled warmly at him in praise. "There's a good boy." You pulled your hand away from his arm, and reached out to his mouth, delicately dab away the bright red blood tracks. You knew how hard those were to get out once they set, especially on bone. "Now, tell me, what's on your mind?"

 

"wh-who muck ..." Blood flecked gently when he spoke, landing on your shirt, instead of your arm.

 

You ignored it - for the moment. "Too much?" You parroted back to him.

 

"hurts ... who muck, pwese ..." His face was screwed up. " ... pwese, maw ..."

 

You closed your eyes, and gave a gentle, little sigh. You felt him flinch, but, well, he wasn't turning away.

 

"i promith ... i wont be bab! i be good! i promith!!" His exclamation flecked more blood your way, and you felt some get on your cheek this time. You were really going to have to turn him around soon.

 

"Just a little longer sweety ... " You soothed, despite your fraying nerves. "Just need to bear with it a little longer ..." You rubbed his check placatingly, a finger running close to his mouth. It's something you hadn't _dared_ do before, even with his sweet disposition.

 

This only seemed to agitate him though, instead of soothe. He was about to protest, but instead he hiccuped, choking on the blood that had pooled in his mouth, and sending more blood droplets flying.

 

You sighed and finally shifted him around, less you get more hemogoblin all over your person.

 

"wooo muuuck ..." He whined, his voice echoing against the open room. You were sure the other bitties in nieghboring rooms could hear him, even with the sound dampening walls.

 

You whispered into his ear. "Shhh ... just a little longer... " You repeated like a chant. You cupped your hand against his face, and rested your thumb near his blood spattered mouth. "You'll be healed before you know it, sweetheart ... all the hurt will go away ..."

 

Despite your soft words, he began to struggle just a little bit. It must really hurt him ... but, well, it would likely hurt you too if you had all your teeth yanked out. Despite your deepest sympathies, the only thing his resistance accomplished was lighting your ire. In a brief moment of irritation, the few fingers that had been cupping his face, found their way partially into his mouth.

 

He gasped, momentarily stunned. He had been out for the procedure (you weren't _completely_ cruel), but you hadn't seen to his pain afterwards. It's more though likely he was just shocked to feel something in his mouth beside his own tongue. Afterall, _who the fuck would be dumb enough to put their fingers near that metal shredder?_ ... at least, before now.

 

He sobbed in agony, but, well, there's not much he could do without a full set of fangs. What was he going to do - gum you to death?

 

It was awful to admit, but running your fingers all against those bloody sockets ... was some what exciting. _Sensational_ , even. The danger was no longer there, of course, but just knowing the danger _was_ there before ... you were violating something completely new. Some primal, depraved pleasure center in your brain was lighting up.

 

"ma ... no ... ma, pwese ..." He mumbled miserably against your fingers.

 

That sobered you up real quick, and you swiftly withdrew your fingers. Torture was **not** the point of this. If it were another bitty, a different bitty, perhaps ... but, not this one.You resumed what you were meant to be doing - comforting, "Just a little longer sweety... and all the pain will go away ..." You gave the top of his head a gentle, soothing kiss. "I promise, I promise ..."

 

You genuinely felt bad for him. A pure bite's fangs were his primary defense mechanism, after all ... but, you couldn't exactly release him to that sweet little girl, who just really wanted the big teddy bear looking bitty. She had been taken in his sweet and gentle disposition, and you knew she had begged her parents for that bitty in particular. Of course, cost was no object for the patron of _that_ particular shop, but, the danger factor of the bitty _was_ ... and, well ... that's why they came to you.

 

Your clientele was by invite and recommendation only - and while your methods for taming bitties may be ... unconventional ... they had a 99% success rate. (1% were rare lost causes, and usually found their way into 'disposal'.) Unfortunately, there was only one thing you could do for this big, gentle guy. So, you knocked him out, and yanked out his every last fang.

 

You had wondered, on a purely scientific level, whether he would retain any bite power after the procedure. Normally you would of made sure a bitty's pain was dampered after this type of major operation, especially if they weren't here for behavior correction. You had never defanged a pure bite before though, and you had to know whether he would still present a danger. Unfortunately, that meant numbing him would skew the results. However, going by the full and unharmed state of your digits, it appeared the procedure, at least the initial stages, was a success. _Thank fuck ..._

 

Now it was just a question of how fast his magic would heal up those gums ... or if you'd have to end yanking out even more of them. That last option was ... not ideal. It would mean more brain storming on a way to stop fang growth, or ... well ... he'd fall into that rare 1%.

 

As you withdrew your fingers, however, he seemed to calm down significantly. He finally settled for quietly sobbing, dampening his clothes with tears and blood, and staining his bones. You vowed to give him a nice hot bath afterwards.

 

* * *

 

It was just a few hours later before his recovery was complete. Thankfully the place you had chosen to rest was one of the most comfortable rooms in your 'clinic' - typically your escape away from 'everything else'. Even after sitting there for hours, and briefly drowsing off, you weren't achy. Part way through the process, the pure bite had also fallen asleep, which was a relief. Sleeping would speed along the healing process, and he'd be less traumatized in the long run. You'd been checking his mouth periodically, though careful not to actually touch the open wounds, to make sure they were closing, but after a few hours, the post-procedure was decidedly a complete success. His gums, while exceptionally shiny, were completely smoothed. Not a preliminary sign of regrowth, either. He'd probably be sore for a while, but you'd pulled the canines out of other more ferocious bitties before. They'd be grouchy for a few days, but they'd recover before the week was out. You'd expect he'd be a teddy bear by comparison.

 

When he woke up, his face was scrunched, as though he was expecting more pain. However, it wasn't long until realized his pain was gone. _You hadn't lied to him_. He had beamed brightly up at you, with a gummy grin, expressing his pure pleasure - and you did your best to smile back, hoping your discomfort was hidden well. There really was something unnerving about being looked at so fondly by a creature you had done something so horrific to it - and you normally had a steel resolve.

 

You gave him a hot bath afterwards, as you promised yourself, and a fresh set of clothes. After that came the hard part. You had pretty much spent a week bonding with him - enough to get him to trust you enough to stick wires into his souls to knock him out. Imprinting on you somewhat was a inevitable. But ... he wasn't your bitty. You didn't have the paperwork for him. Even with the significant cash flow into your business, you _still_ couldn't afford to buy something as expensive as him. 

 

Yet, when you put him in that paper carrier, and smiled at him, and said "Everything will be all right" He believed you. You had never lied to him. **He trusted you completely.**

 

When his "parents" arrived, and saw their main concern taken care of, they were 'satisfied'. They gave their thanks, as well as a decently large suitcase full of money, that you'd have to find a way to 'launder' later. More than that though - they were carrying the pure bite home. They were carrying him away from you.

 

Naturally he panicked. "Ma! ... Ma!!" He exclaimed from inside the box. You grit your teeth, kept your smile, and ignored it. He would be upset for a day or two, but then he would have to get used to it. He had a new owner now. You didn't put him through all that suffering for nothing, and you were sure that little girl would take great care of him.

 

You could still hear his cries, even as he left your 'clinic'.

 

* * *

 

 A few days later, you heard the little girl changed her mind. The pure bite had imprinted so strongly onto you, that he rejected all attempts at his new owner to bond with him. He was no longer the sweet, caring bitty the little girl fallen in love with ... he was a emotional wreck.

 

Instead of bringing him back to you though, her parents simply got rid him. He was worthless to them afterall, but they weren't about to let someone cash in on it.

 

* * *

 

 

A few more days later, a large black bag of trash was being pulled into a garbage truck. When the compactor came down on it, a violent crunch resounded. The bag bursted open and dust scattered everywhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All I wanted to do was cuddle the pure bite, and prod at his little empty fang holes. But somehow it turned out like this. You all knew I wasn't going to let this end happily - CWs spoiled as such, although I guess you didn't know exactly how. Oh well.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. ♡
> 
> [sinfulamythyst.tumblr.com](https://sinfulamythyst.tumblr.com) \- NSFW Blog  
> [redamythyst.tumblr.com](https://redamythyst.tumblr.com/) \- Barely Safe for Adults Blog


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